Confessions
by TheGodmother2
Summary: Walt Longmire and Vic Moretti dealing with multi-chapter season 4 drama and speculation.
1. Chapter 1

He chose to drive alone.

The Bronco was already in the parking lot when we arrived at St. Luke's.

Ruby holds onto the door handle sighing heavily not quite ready to get out of the truck; Cady leans forward and gently squeezes her shoulder.

"We will be ok, Ruby." I'm lying but it's all I got right now. My class A uniform is sharp and crisp as only a new uniform can be while my hair is perfectly coiffed in a tight bun with a black ribbon.

Walt is standing with his back to the pews, next to the casket, his hand on the draped flag; dressed in his Class A's he is almost unrecognizable. His hair is trim, his face is smooth and his uniform is pristine. That's what people will notice because that's what he wants them to notice but I see the rage just beneath his steely skin. I can feel his desperation.

"Hey," I say to Ferg whose eyes look for and find Cady.

"Hey, Vic." He pauses, "How's Cady holding up?"

"Good considering." I don't offer any more because there's no more to give. There's no etiquette book on grieving a former lover who was slain by his father.

Walt's eyes stay forward, his hand still pressed against the flag. I step in behind him and gently touch his shoulder blade, for only an instant, and my hand moves to the casket.

"Walt." I say just above a whisper.

My voice breaks through the silence surrounding him and he glances over as his fingers clasp mine for only a moment of comfort.

"Are you ready?" I ask not really expecting an answer.

I look over at him a bit overwhelmed at the striking figure he cuts and the totality of the circumstances that bring us to this point. I think of how unscathed I really am and I wonder how he is going to survive all of this and if he is going to survive all of this.

I'm trying to keep my shit together, to keep everything in place, and keep my feelings in the realm of appropriateness which makes me think there is something wrong with me because I can feel this immense pain and still notice how good he looks standing here next to me near wallowing in grief and how much I want him. I'm fucked up, I think, and I hate myself for it.

Ferg stands next to me, his face is solemn, and he looks so serious, so unFerg like, so foreign just as we all are in our grief.

The organist starts and it's our cue to move to our places. Barlow is in the front row, his face grief stricken, and I feel sorry for him. Accidental shootings happen all the time but this this is so incomprehensible.

We rehearsed the ceremony last night with the State Troopers Honor Guard and our seats were reserved for the second row behind Barlow and the distant Connolly family but as we turn around Walt stands between Barlow and Lucian. Lucian doesn't say a word but moves over and Walt sits between the two men. His knarred-knuckled hands fold in his lap while Ferg and I take our places behind them.

I look at Walt and think that I will never understand him as I watch him sit as the pillar of strength for these two men. I think for the first time that Walt can't help but protect us, all of us, it's his nearly singular purpose.

The ceremony otherwise goes as planned but when Walt presents Barlow the flag I swear I hear Lucian catch his breath and I lose it; snot, tears, and heaves. It's all there. It's all loud. It's all genuine and I can't really control it and Ferg puts his arm around me. His thick arm and meaty fingers press into my flesh like this huge emotional crutch. His jaw is set and I feel oddly comforted by him.

Walt stands, salutes, and goes through the perfect steps like he rehearsed and this time he sits in the second row, as designed, next to me, and Ferg's arm falls back to his lap his shoulder still leaning into me. Walt is sitting tightly his entire left side against my body and I think it's on purpose. I wipe my eyes, take a deep breath, and put forth my best effort to get my shit together because now I'm embarrassed.

Walt reaches over and takes my hand, "It's ok to cry." He whispers all light and reassuring and I'm pretty sure it's a tone I've never heard before it's really soft but hard all at the same time.

His fingers collapse tightly around mine and he moves our hands into his lap wrapping his other hand around and for the first time, in a very long time, I feel totally and completely safe, emotionally safe.

We stand on signal and Walt holds my hand a moment longer, looking at me his lips purse up, letting me know he's here for me and for all of us and that really we will be fine. Singing our last hymn I'm grateful that Barlow is having Branch cremated because I just couldn't make it through a gravesite ceremony let alone be a pallbearer.

Sitting in our assigned seats at our designated tables throws me back to adolescence with my mom after my grand-mother's funeral where I was too young to understand the implications of death, the ceremony of death, and the pain all of that entails.

Cady looks up, "We really should eat our food to keep our strength up." She gives a faint smile, masking the pain she must be feeling inside.

"You're right of course," echoes Ruby and like good little kids we comply eating the homemade potato salad, fried chicken, and green beans on our paper plates.

"Walter, are you ok?" Ruby is the only one with courage enough to ask out loud.

I look at him as he shakes his head, barely chewing, "Yup." His eyes go back to his plate and we all perform to our potential for the citizens of Durant and Absaroka County.

"I have set aside a 23 year old bottle of Pappy Van Winkle's Family Reserve which is fitting for this situation. I hope you all will join me at the Red Pony after the repast has concluded." Henry offers and Walt just nods another acknowledgment.

"Can we use your office to change?" Cady asks the relief that alcohol will be consumed in short order fills her voice.

"Of course you may."

At the Pony, Walt lifts his highball glass and toasts, "To us and those like us. Damn few left." The bourbon burns the back of my throat as it washes the anger and frustration down just a little further.

I need to keep my shit together because Walt is going to lose his as I watch him down more than a few shots of Pappy's.

He pours his long lanky legs into the passenger side of my truck as I head toward his cabin having drawn the short straw to drive him home.

"I have a confession." He mumbles.

I don't say anything at first, when I look at him, deciding if it's serious and I do.

His hat is down a little too far and he holds his head up to look at me. I quickly decide that in his current inebriated state whatever he is going to say that this is the wrong place and this is the wrong time but it's here because he is making it so.

"What?"

"I wasn't a good husband."

I look at him and I think he can almost see the words swirling around my mind.

"You must be drunker than you look."

"I'm not drunk." My eyes connect with him as I reassess.

"I wasn't there with Martha, in Denver; I wasn't there to protect her."

"You think that makes you a bad husband?" My voice tilts a little to match my head.

"It can't get much worse than that." He says but there's more and now that he's started I want him to finish it.

"I was working a case. I put work before her. I always did."

"I know what that's like. It certainly doesn't elevate you to husband of the year."

"Nope." Walt hangs his head and looks down at his ropers – dirty and worse for wear.

He lets his hat slide forward over his eyes, arms folded against his chest, maybe feeling the shame of his confession.

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why are you telling me this? Why now? Why me?" I ask as I peek at him staring out into the darkness of the summer night. My open window blows wisps of hair around like they are frantically dancing on my head.

"You needed to know." He says to me flatly like I should know that without him saying.

"Why? I haven't till now."

"You need to know that I hate myself for it." He pauses, "and it's what keeps me from you."

I look over at him, my eyes off of the road, my foot off of the gas pedal and I stop the truck in the middle of the highway.

"What?"

"Vic, pull over or keep going."

"We're in the middle of bum fuck Egypt I'm not worried about it. What the fuck kind of thing is that to say to me?"

"I didn't mean to piss you off."

"Too late."

"Why are you mad?" He says in his way as if a few words will explain everything.

"When you want to talk to me, I mean really talk to me; I don't want you to be drunk. I want you to fucking mean it, Walt and not be sorry about it later." I stare out into the space between us and I can feel my lips quiver just a bit from the anger I am suppressing beneath them.

"I'm not drunk."

"Then why the fuck am I here driving you home?"

"I needed a ride."

"I'm not your personal taxi service, Walt."

I roll my eyes and stare back at the road and start down the road again.

"You are such an asshole."

"That's the point I think I was making."

I stop in front of his cabin, the lights from the truck illuminating the classic wooden frame home, and I wait.

"Vic, come inside."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow when you're sober."

"I'm not drunk but I'll make coffee if you come inside."

"Walt, I don't know if I can hear this."

"You mean if you want to hear this."

"No, that's not what I mean."

I put my hands at ten and two, "I don't know if I can hear this."

It's then that I see it and I didn't expect to see it. His eyes are full and they are soft and I know that he has surrendered to whatever forces keep him at bay.

"You better have some cream and sugar or I'm going to be pissed."


	2. Chapter 2

"The last time I was here was awkward."

"This awkward?"

"Ah, yeah, like you don't remember."

"It was bad." He puts his head down like he's ashamed or embarrassed or both I don't know and he measures out the coffee for his French press.

His house is a mess but it strikes me that he actually measures his coffee and it's not a standard plug-in coffee maker. It's a dichotomy I find abnormally attractive.

"You're strange, Walt, you know that?"

I can feel my eyebrows scrunch together and I remind myself to stop or I will get wrinkled there and I smile at him because it's like it just dawned on me that he is strange.

"I am?"

"Yeah, you are."

He gives me his short aw shucks grin, "Ok, I guess," and he turns around, opens a cabinet door and takes out some packets of sugar.

Waving them in the air, separating the sugar, "See sugar."

"You steal those from Henry's?"

"Technically its not stealing if you buy something." He smiles and puts the sugar on the counter.

"I have some milk will that be ok?"

"It will do."

The water screams at us and Walt pours it into the press and does his thing making the coffee. We both lean against opposite counters waiting for it to steep.

He pushes his hands into his pockets and his clothes look like they are about to fall off of his angular body as if its an inconvenience for him to get dressed in the first place and I wonder if I am wrong in thinking he's okay with it because he's ok with his body. The way he moves makes me want to step inside of him and experience the fluid confidence of his gait and I think I shouldn't think these things standing holding up the counter in his disheveled kitchen.

Walt hands me my coffee and holds his hand out, "We can sit in here."

I take an end of the couch, lean forward with my brown homespun ceramic coffee mug, and take a sip.

"Not bad." I say because it's not and he blows the steam off of his black coffee and sips it down.

"I don't think it was an accident." He says swallowing his sip.

"What?"

"Barlow, I think he's lying." He says looking at me over his cup.

"Seriously, Walt?"

"Seriously."

"So, why today. Why comfort him? Why let him go through with the cremation?"

"It was the right thing to do and I don't know I guess because I couldn't stop it." He looks down at the back of his hand, his fingers flexing, then back up at me.

The same soft full look in his eyes is back.

"I don't think you were as bad a husband as you think."

"I could have been better. I wanted to be better."

"Why weren't you?"

"Time. I took it for granted. Thought I would have more of it."

"Hmm" it's all I can muster because I don't think he's learned his lesson but that maybe he is trying to and that thought is keeping my butt planted on his couch.

"I've always found purpose in my work I guess but after all we've gone through, all I've gone through, it becomes more apparent that I can't control any of it."

He looks at his coffee, takes a sip, and moves his bottom lip up to catch the drop on his top lip and I'm acutely aware of just how sexy he is and I'm a little disappointed in myself for not staying focused.

He starts to say something and I realize that my inadvertent silence due to my inappropriate thought has thrown him. I look at him and then down to my coffee trying to recover.

"Vic, do you even like me?" His voice is so smooth and subtle like he's practiced a million times.

"Like you?"

His face is a little flush but I don't think he is uncomfortable I think it's from the bourbon.

"Of course I like you Walt don't be stupid."

He smiles, takes another sip, and blows out the anxiety, "I won't be good for you."

"What are we talking about?"

"You know what we are talking about."

"No, I don't think even you know what you are talking about."

"Are you denying it because you don't want to admit it?"

"Why do you think it wasn't an accident." My brain just processed part of Walt's confession.

He rolls with it like we are part of the Borg and his mind is linked with mine, "Barlow has been shooting his entire life. He was state trap champion for 10 years in a row. Besides me, Henry, and Omar he's the only guy I know that knows guns just as well, especially long guns."

He leans forward, his coffee cup between both hands, "He cares for those guns like they are his kids and he is methodical and thoughtful with them. There's no way it was an accident but I just can't fathom the reason he would kill his own son. His only child."

"Maybe Branch found something."

"What? What could be so bad he would kill him?" He stands up and starts pacing like he does when he's thinking.

"Let's pick the only three that have ever started any major shit since the history of man; money, power, or sex."

I'm instantly sorry I say sex because my brain follows the natural progression and I look at the slight bulge in his pants just below his belt and I realize I do and I do it more often than I will admit so I look away then I look back at his face but my eyes land on his open shirt and all the hair there and I think back to him in the doorway all wet with the towel wrapped around his waist and him putting on his dirty shirt to cover the shame of Lizzie's outburst then I'm back in that place where I know I shouldn't be thinking these things and I just need to leave.

He doesn't seem to notice my dilemma because he shifts his weight onto one leg and opens his free hand as he begins to think out loud, "Barlow has the first two and unless there's something weird I couldn't possibly imagine the third coming into play."

He presses his lips together and makes that slight smacking sound he makes when he reaches a conclusion.

"It's the money or the power or both." He says.

"Money's never been important to you?" I ask.

He snaps his head back at me like he's back on track with us, "No."

"Was that ever a problem?"

"Only when Cady was going to school."

"That's the only time?"

"Martha had simple tastes and we were comfortable."

"Do you worry about it now?"

"Sometimes?"

"Why?"

"I don't think you will be happy here…not in the long term. You'll get bored and you'll leave."

"You must think a lot of yourself if you think you can figure all of that out for me."

He looks a little hurt and a little angry.

"Am I wrong?"

"Do you think I'm still here for the money?"

"Why are you still here?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out."

"I'm not helping." It's a clear statement and definitely not a question.

"Not really."

He shifts his weight again, comfortably holding his coffee cup, while his free hand wanders, "I don't really know where to start, Vic."

"How about the beginning."

He smiles, it's quick, and it's fleeting but it's big.

"I think, ah, I think about you a lot." His eyes don't move from mine. He's in serious Walt mode and I'm serious too.

"I think sometimes you may think about me too." His face is just this side of flush but his voice is confident.

"I do think about you, too." I smile letting him know it's ok.

He smiles back and I tell myself not to stare at his full lips to look into his eyes and I do and they are that rare deep cobalt blue that color his eyes turn when he is intense and full throttle.

I never notice him putting the coffee cup down but I notice that he has closed the space between us and he sits down on the edge of the coffee table his knee barely touching mine.

"You need to explain what you meant earlier, Walt." I'm back on track and being serious because this is serious.

"I'm guilty."

"Of what?" I ask

"Of wanting you too much."

I feel my face do that instant hot thing I hate as I look at him and I clear my throat because clearly I cannot speak.

"And I feel guilty because I want to be with you, not just that way," Now his face is all hot, "but I want to be with you all of the time and that makes me feel like I cheated Martha."

My eyebrows crinkle again.

"I always put work ahead of everything but you are work, at work with me, and I want you there with me and it's like I don't cheat you but I cheated her and I feel like shit and I think that in the end, Vic, I don't know, that I will fail you just like I failed her."

I pull my arms together and wrap them around my chest and lean forward. Instantly, I know that I'm sending the wrong signal but it's that self-protective defense mechanism kick started and in place.

"Maybe I am drunk." He says all quick and defensive back.

I reach out and put my hand on his knee, "Don't."

He looks away toward the wall and I can see the glint in the corner of his eye and the same set of instincts processes every observation in a Nano second and I'm up and over him, my hand on his smooth face, those eyes are back on me and his long legs stretch out and up and he's over me and his lips are on mine but its all soft, and warm, and gentle like he really has thought of this a lot.

I pull away out of his grasp, "Good night, Walt." He holds my fingertips, his eyes glazed over looking more intoxicated than I have ever seen him.

"You don't have to leave, Vic." He means it, at this moment, anyway.

"Yeah, Walt, I do." I turn to the front door and he's right behind me but considerate of my space.

I stand at the door and in the end I chicken out and can't turn to look at him and I tell the door, "I meant what I said earlier I don't want you to be drunk."

Opening the door I feel his hand on my shoulder all-light like he's afraid to touch me and I turn into him and look up, "I don't want you to be sorry about it later."

The walk to my truck feels like a mile hike up hill in the snow with hurricane winds in my face but when I turn the ignition I know this is the hardest and the best decision I've ever made even as the headlights illuminate him and all of his maleness standing in the doorway of his wooden frame cabin.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry you left last night." He's smiling that flirty smile that's so smug but charming all at once.

"No, you're not."

"Why wouldn't I be?" The words are softer but the smile is still there.

"You still haven't figured out that it's not all about you."

I leave the case box on his desk tapping the white lid as I walk out, "That's Branch's box. I figure you will want to go over it." I stop in the doorway and point behind me with my thumb, "Thinking Ferg should be in on this?"

He looks at me; his mind is anywhere but here, "Yup." That's it, he's shut down, and I think maybe I was too hard on him and sounded like I was in complete bitch mode.

Sitting at my desk I suddenly feel the urge to cry and I'm ashamed for my behavior, ashamed of being mean to him, and I think about getting up and apologizing. I don't want him to see me cry and I don't want to cry, not two days in a fucking row, so I grab my jacket and walk out.

Stepping onto the sidewalk I feel so alone in this one horse town. Why the fuck am I still here? Why am I stuck in this never-ending loop of bad endings?

"Hey, Dorothy"

"Hey, sugar" Dorothy has what I wish I had. She's genuinely nice. I think her and Ruby must be related.

She looks at me with her hand on her hip chewing her gum ever so slightly.

"How you doin', Vic? You alright?" Her voice is gentle and she's speaking so only I can hear her.

"I'm ok Dorothy, really." I need to work on my lying skills.

"You want a coffee?"

I nod my head.

"How about somethin' to eat with that?"

"Buttermilk short stack."

"Excellent choice."

"You want two of them?"

I nod my head, "No, just one, but wouldn't that be a tall stack?" I ask all innocent with no hint of sarcasm because she's too nice to me for all of that.

She points behind me, "No, that would be him. I figured he's joining you."

I turn behind me and Walt is standing behind me.

"Morning, Dorothy." He smiles and his finger goes to his hat, that half-tip, half-acknowledgement thing that is the symbol of politeness in this part of the world.

"Morning, Walt." She smiles her same sweet smile.

"I'll have what she's having."

"Oh, you mean the usual."

"Yup."

"Mind if I join you?"

"It would look weird if I said no." I give him a soft roll of my eyes and a half-smile.

He smiles back like its funny and I'm thinking he is smart as a fox because he pretty much knows I won't go crazy in public but I feel trapped like he's out played me at my own game as we move to his favorite table tucked in the back.

"How are we ever gonna solve anything if you keep walking out on me?"

Dorothy sets down our coffees and mine is already perfect. I love that she gets it right every time.

"Thanks, Dorothy."

"Welcome, hon."

She makes me miss home. She makes me miss being the only girl and getting the extra attention even though I pretended I hated it I never really did.

"Both times were out of necessity."

His head pulls back a bit, "Necessity?"

"Yeah, the first time it was necessary to save you and the second to save me. Necessity."

He stares and sips his black coffee and does that sexy sip thing again and I'm sure he has no idea how sexy it is or that I even look at his lips and imagine how they would feel all over my body and just how soft they really are and how surprising that was considering the rest of him, that I can see, is all rough and rugged.

"You have me cornered."

"Cornered?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say."

"Until you make sense."

"You must be hung over."

"Can't be hung over because I was never drunk."

I sip my coffee and look at him. I decide not to take the bait.

"It's not all about me you know." He rubs his finger up and down the side of his coffee mug, looking at the coffee, and then at me.

"I know it shouldn't be."

"It's not." His voice is wrapped in strength.

We both drink and look down at our cups like we will find the answers there.

"It feels like it when you talk to me."

"I haven't said everything I need to say."

"Then say it."

"Not here."

"Why not?"

"I can't touch you here."

"That's why you should say it here."

He grins and rubs his chin and looks out into the diner surveying every face and mentally making a checklist. He does that, notes his surroundings, all of the time like clockwork.

"I thought you liked me touching you." Clearly avoiding the topic. A classic diversionary move that I am so familiar with.

"I do. That's why you should say it here." I want him so bad I can barely concentrate and I'm pretty sure I can't spell my name right now.

He smiles because now he understands the effect he has on me and he's enjoying it and maybe he should.

"Ok."

"Did you like it? Me touching you I mean." I can't help myself to save myself.

I ask because I need to know in a twisted perverted way whether I have the same effect on him.

He nods his head, "We need to do more of it." A tiny bead of sweat appears on his forehead betraying him and reinforcing my ego as that sweet smug smile spreads across his lips.

Dorothy sets two plates of pancakes down and I douse mine in butter and syrup doing everything I can to not look at him right now and getting my mind back where it belongs.

"I know there will be times when I will compare you to Sean because that's what people do, we personalize our experiences, Walt, but I don't expect you to pay for his fuck ups."

"I don't want you to pay for the things that weren't right in my marriage."

"It feels that way."

He looks at me and I can see him processing what I'm saying and putting it in the correct compartments in his big brain.

"There's no such thing as a perfect relationship, Vic. My marriage to Martha was pretty damned good and really any of the parts that could have been better were more on me, you know, I am all too aware of what those shortcomings are and I'm afraid that I will repeat those if we, if we, actually turn into a we."

He rubs his fingers in his napkin and folds his fingers together in a tee-pee above his plate like he's formulating something really important to say and when his lips move he doesn't look at me and says, "When you get back we'll go over Branch's case file."

He puts a ten-dollar bill on the table and walks out saying good-bye to Dorothy as he opens the glass door.

The tears are back but I won't let them fall because they are mixed with anger now, and shame, and fear, and humiliation.

I try to convince myself that I am doing the right thing even if it doesn't feel like it and then I begin to wonder if he's worth it, all of this, in this place.

I force myself up, and back to the office, not giving him the satisfaction of delay. His bullshit doesn't bother me I tell myself as I strut back to the station.

Sauntering in unannounced I slide into my chair and begin the tedious paperwork that is police work. I don't think he knows I'm back but I'm wrong when I hear him yell, "Vic," and it's that loud pissed off voice.

I stop at his open doorway with my arms folded, like the past 24 hours never happened it was all a bad dream.

"You ready to go over Branch's box?" His finger points down at the lid.

I shrug my shoulders because the words are caught in my throat and really what would I say anyway?

"I'll get Ferg." I turn without waiting for confirmation.

"Hey Ferg," I motion towards the office and he walks over, eager.

"What's up, Vic?"

"Walt's not sure Branch's death was an accident."

His eyes grow big but his face completely relaxes as if the thought is familiar to him.

"Ok"

"We're gonna go over the evidence again and we all need to take a look." Walt puts his hands on his hips and smacks his lips.

"Ok," is all Ferg offers.

As we unpack the box of papers and talk through the statement of facts I forget about this morning as we all form a synthesis trying to put together the pieces and taking them apart.

Ferg starts taking notes, "Hey, ah, I think I should search the county property records, business licenses, permits, DBA's, and maybe I can find some financial motivation?"

"Good thinking, Ferg." Walt chimes in and he says it all strong.

Ferg's pressed lips turn up for a moment and he strides out of the office almost like he's gliding having found his relevance and purpose.

"Shut the door." It's a request his voice tells me.

I close the door gently and turn around to face him.

"I'm sorry about this morning." He looks out to the window, "It seems I apologize to you a lot."

"You don't need to apologize, Walt. I pretty much deserved it."

"You didn't but I was being an asshole."

"Oh, you mean, by doing to me what I do to you."

He smiles, "Sometimes I forget just how smart you are."

I smile back, "Likewise."

"Now that we have that settled." He steps to the other side of his desk and sits on the edge, his big hands pressed on his thighs, thighs that appear thicker than I imagined because his jeans are pressed tight and I refuse to allow myself to think about it or imagine it.

"Vic." His voice is so deep and so gentle.

I look up into his seawater eyes, "I'm going a little crazy here."

I step closer, like a moth to a flame, I know it's going to incinerate me but the heat is too alluring.

"I don't know what to do." I say and fold my arms across my chest.

His finger strokes my belt keeper, "I don't either."


	4. Chapter 4

He slips his finger into my belt loop and tugs just a bit, he's smooth and relaxed. I refuse to let my arms fall, my last barrier of defense as his legs spread open welcoming me into his very private space.

"Walt." I say like a quiet plea but he is hyper intensive and not really listening.

His finger hangs in my belt while his head hangs back his eyes shift to a deep dark pool of desire and I feel the fall and it's slow, and light, and dizzying as my arms fall on his shoulders, our lips touch like they are afraid of the burn.

He doesn't say a word as he pulls his head away and I'm suspended in this neutral space and he's in my head again all wrapped up, intertwined, and fully in the moment with me as he leans forward and kisses me and this time it's deep, and searching, and wanting, and a little rough.

His hand is wrapped around me and pulling me in closer, legs open wide and pressing around me, and when we break for air there's nothing I can say, there's nothing I can do, because I know with all certainty that I will never ever win the war all I can do is manage the battles.

"Walt." This time my voice is all whispery weak and full of heat.

"I'm here," and he is and I feel him.

"I know."

"I want to be here."

"But not here."

"No, not here."

I'm looking at him and I can't not look at him, "We need to stop."

"I know." He says all throaty like he knows it but doesn't mean it.

"Seriously."

"I've never been more serious." His eyes don't shift and it scares the shit out of me.

I step back, smooth out my shirt, and turn the doorknob but I can't get the door open because I'm all elbows and nerves.

I stop, look down, take a breath and Walt is behind me, barely touching me but the energy is radiating off of him, his voice is super soft, super deep and a little shaky, his chest leans into my shoulder as he turns the knob, "Let me."

Ferg has his head buried in the computer completely focused oblivious to the fact that I am in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

"Hey Walt." Ferg looks up from the computer, a pencil gripped between his teeth, "I think I found something."

I stand-up, move behind Ferg and look over his shoulder at the series of parcel numbers on the county tax assessors website.

Walt saunters out of his office and I force my eyes to stay on the computer screen refusing to look up or at him. He slides next to me, "What have you got Ferg?"

His hip touches me and he slides his hand behind my waist, his hand resting there as he leans into the screen reading the illuminated information, his touch is so relaxed and natural.

I'm nearly paralyzed as my brain tries to catch up to what's happening, what I'm feeling, but I can't label it, I can't quantify it and I sure as hell want more of it.

"Ok, see the pattern, here?" Ferg's voice tilts up a little full of enthusiasm.

"There are 23 parcels so far that I have found that were delinquent in tax bills and were sold for back taxes at auction during the past two years. This is what I found so far." Ferg explains

"Ok, so what's so special about that?" I ask, genuinely, like I want to know.

"It's the same company, Barlow Construction, which isn't weird except that land sales for back taxes is really rare in our county because it takes years to go to auction. A lot of the property is traced back to tribal lands so no one really bothers it's a lot of hassle and potential litigation."

"How do you know all that Ferg?" Walt asks, his hand falling down to hip, and he's entirely natural in Sheriff mode.

"You know my dad is in roofing and well a few years ago when construction was going good he thought about investing in some property and building some spec homes you know and maybe getting enough to retire on but my dad didn't have a lot of cash and thought maybe he could pick up a parcel at the assessors office. That's how he found all of this out and there's no reason to think any of that has changed."

Walt points at the screen, "Keep digging, Ferg." He pats Ferg on the shoulder and in that moment, with that action, something in me snapped awake.

For the first time in months I realize that Walt has changed. It's been subtle but it's real. He treats Ferg differently, includes him, encourages him and in his Walt way is tender with him.

It moves him into a space I wasn't quite prepared to put him in.

Walt walks by me pulling on his summer jacket and I notice the stitched material while he is adjusting his hat and it puts me back in that place. That place where I couldn't hide from myself anymore, that place that led to this place and today. We make brief eye contact as he walks past and his lips purse lightly and I think how I was just kissing those lips.

"Walt?" I ask

"I have to run an errand." He's focused.

Walt points, "Help Ferg dig through the county records." At that he turns and he's gone.

Ferg and I click and print and save and download page after page of documents. I've seen this intensity before when Cady was in the hospital it was both scary and welcome at the same time.

"You seem pretty motivated." I say.

"What?"

"You seem pretty motivated, Ferg."

"I'm just trying to do my job, Vic." He says but he's not being mean just being factual.

"You always do your job, Ferg." It's my turn to be factual.

He looks up at me, his innocence a little restored, "You just seem intense is all."

"Truth be told Vic, I always thought Barlow was lying, but you know I didn't want to second guess Walt or anything." He whispers like Walt may sneak up on him.

"I get it. He can be pretty intimidating."

"Yeah, he can." Ferg smiles at me like I finally figured it out for myself and he's happy for me.

Ferg and I stay hunkered down for the next couple of hours, writing, recording, making copies and putting together pieces of the jigsaw puzzle.

My cellphone rings at it startles me. I don't get many calls except from Philly and an occasional wrong number from a local in Durant.

I don't recognize the number but I recognize the prefix as Durant.

"Hello."

"It's me."

"Yes"

"Ferg still there?"

"Yes."

"Will you have dinner with me?"

"I can't."

"Vic."

I pause because I know if I say yes to him now I won't be able to say no later and deep down inside a part of me is really afraid that if Walt sees me, sees the real me, he won't like what he sees and I don't think I could recover from that, not now.

"Ok." He says and I can hear the disappointment but I appreciate him not pressuring me, which is a feeling I am very familiar with when it comes to men.

"Ok?"

"Yup." The phone clicks and as I put it back on my desk, back in the charger, my stomach clinches and I instantly regret the exchange.

"Vic, I think we should go down to the assessors office and the planning office tomorrow when they open and take a look at the permit requests." Ferg is either a great actor or completely oblivious to my present emotional crisis.

"Sounds good, Ferg. I can finish up here go home and get some sleep we will need to concentrate tomorrow."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Ok, good night."

Ferg makes haste and leaves for the night and I look through our findings creating a spreadsheet for tracking and pack-up and head for home after forwarding the office phone to my cell phone since it's my turn to be on-call.

I turn the corner on my block and my lights hit his long, lean silhouette framed against the Bronco, and my heart stops, literally.


	5. Chapter 5

I back my truck into the driveway while taking deep breaths in and slow breaths out parking next to the Bronco. While I gather my gear, Walt stays put, the streetlight illuminates him to mythical proportions.

Opening the door, I expect him to meet me at the truck but he doesn't, instead he stays put and stands up straight as I slam the truck door.

"I just need a minute, Vic." His voice is collected like he's thought about what he needs to say.

He stands straighter, one hand on his hip the other outstretched ready to plead his case, and I decide in that instant that I'm not angry with him because he's being respectful of my space and of me and if he's here in my driveway he's as fucked up as I am over this thing we have yet to name.

"Walt, given my fucked up history with crazy stalkers maybe you should have called?" It's an attempt at levity but it's also the truth.

"I thought about it." He says, "It's one of the reasons I called you earlier."

"Where did you call me from?"

"Payphone."

"They still have those?"

"You gotta know where to look."

"Ah"

"I really needed to see you."

I hit near visceral panic mode at what he may say and I take a step back, another self-defense protective measure, which clearly I have no control over.

He closes the distance not giving up ground while looking into the distance and sighing as if his sharp frame is holding up the weight of the world.

"I had to leave earlier and I need to tell you why." He says like a dying declaration. Then he reaches over and takes my bag from my shoulder and pulls the strap over his own.

His eyes meet mine and they are that soft gentle blue that I only saw for the first time the night before and he says, "Ah, Vic, the errand I ran earlier wasn't really an errand but when I kissed you, ah…" He gives an attempt at a smile as if he is recalling the kiss in vivid detail just like I am right now, "I realized that I shouldn't encourage that in the office and I don't ever want you to be uncomfortable at work."

I can feel my temper start to rise at the recitation of the human resource handbook for avoiding a hostile work environment speech.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I step forward, clearly not on defense anymore, "You drove out here to my house, park in my driveway, to half-way apologize or explain that you shouldn't have kissed me at work? What kind of bullshit is this, Walt?"

His face goes blank like I slapped him, "Vic, I, well yes but….

"But nothing."

"Vic, I'm trying to…"

"You're trying to, what? Trying to explain away something you regret doing?" I can feel my anger give way to waves of nausea that maybe he already has me figured out, that he doesn't want me, and that he has made a huge mistake.

"I don't regret it, Vic." His voice is a little firmer but he's not convincing.

"I'm not doing this with you." It's all I can muster to save face with the last bit of pride I have left.

He hangs his head as if surrendered in defeat and I turn on my heels and head for the front door.

"Vic, wait." He's behind me and then he's next to me then he passes me and stands in front of me with his hands down at my waist.

"Wait a minute." His countenance is set in stone you know that look he has where he looks like a totally different guy and not the one you recognize.

"Stop running from me and just listen for a minute." He says it in absolute terms.

"What, Walt. You have me trapped here on the sidewalk just what the fuck do you have to say?"

I look down at his hands, that are barely touching my belt at my waist, and look up with a plan to admonish him about his hand placement but just as my eyes meet his he does the unthinkable.

He leans in and whispers in my ear, "I want you so bad, Vic, that I can't think straight. I'm lost. I missed Barlow's lies."

In an instant my heart is back in my throat and I pull back from him, his eyes are so expressive, and I see him fully, transparently, filled with all that fear. Fear that is real and solid and in place staring at me.

"Walt." I say and it's filled with sadness, which is the least likely emotion I should express at this moment.

"I don't know what to say to you?" It's the truest thing I've ever said to him.

His voice is all whispery and leathery at the same time, "Say you want me, too."

He slides his hands around my waist and I can feel the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, the hardness of his muscles and without thinking I'm on my tip-toes trying to reach his lips and I find them and when he kisses me I'm sure this is what he wants because he takes control and it's rough and soft and hard and gentle all at the same time.

This, this right here is what I didn't want to happen. Not right now, I wasn't ready for all of this; I'm not ready for it and I feel like I'm letting him down. I've always known, that's what I tell myself as my body melts into his, standing under the streetlight on the sidewalk for the world of Absaroka to see.

When our tongues are finally free, "Vic, don't send me home tonight."

"I want to say, yes." The lump in my throat is back and it's throbbing. It's a beacon to summon courage; to prevent the wrong words from coming out and settling for the right thing for the wrong reasons.

"Then say it."

"Walt." He smells so good. How is it possible to smell like this after working all day?

"Vic." He traces his finger on my chin and those cobalt eyes are back changing color with his intensity and he slides his hand down and loops his finger around mine.

"What are you doing?" He asks?

"I'm taking my bag and I'm going inside, alone. I have to do this, Walt, for myself. I have to put myself first. I want this to happen more than you know but I'm not ready, not yet."

"I can't carry your bag to the door?" He smiles and all his white teeth glisten in the moonlight but I see that I hurt him. He wears the pain in his features. It makes me feel like shit and I lash out like I do.

"No, I don't need you to carry my fucking bags." I say all Gloria Steinem proud.

"I know you don't need me to, Vic." He pulls the strap up on his shoulder with his opposite hand after taking the bag back, his big hand, that was just wrapped around me holding me to his hard body and I desperately need to not think about it.

"I won't apologize for being a gentleman. Now go open the door. What have you got in here? Your bag is heavy." He says as he walks ahead of me and waits for me to open the door.

Opening the door, I turn around, and he leans past me and sets my bag on the entryway floor. He brushes past me as he straightens back up but not before gently kissing me on the cheek and saying, "Good night, Vic. I'll see you in the morning."

With that, he's gone and every emotion ever created is alive and well and swirling in my stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

Ferg is engrossed in the computer screen, scribbling notes, with papers spread about his desk.

"Morning, Ferg."

He glances up, "Hey, Vic."

"You in early." I say because he is.

"Just a few minutes, I figured I would come in and get a head start so I'm making a list if you wanna go over it?"

"Sounds like a plan."

I slide into my seat relieved that Walt's door is still closed but my relief is temporary as I hear the heavy footsteps trudge up the wooden staircase.

The half-door pushes open from the force of his thick thighs hidden by baggy jeans, "Mornin'" his deep morning voice booms in the room.

He looks over at me bearing a slight smile on his lips as he passes by and I don't do what I have been doing and I say as he walks by, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He just nods and I follow him into his office, close the door behind me, and lean against it for support because I need it even if it's from a near century old piece of pine. I know that I'm being chicken shit for talking to him at work but the wooden walls at work offer me security. Security and safety from myself and my apparent inability to consistently say no, it's the whole battle and war thing again.

"You get any sleep?" I ask because my courage is as temporary as my plan so I don't have a script worked out in my head.

"Not really." He does that half smile thing again and stays standing behind his desk.

"What's up?" His hands fall to his hips, fingers splayed across his front.

"Saying no was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I want you to know that." My eyes don't waiver from him and I tell myself to remember to breathe.

"I believe you." He says and I think he does but he still doesn't get why I said no.

"Walt, I'm not ready for what you think we are ready for."

He listens and bites his bottom lip. He's thinking and processing as he moves to the front of his desk and leans against it, his arms folded over his chest, building his barriers.

"I think about you, too, and I do it a lot but what I think about is how you have me wrapped up with guilt and shame with either Martha or Barlow and honestly Walt I don't want that even as much as I want you. I don't deserve that. I deserve better. I want better and really you should too."

At that, he looks out toward the window, still processing and then back toward me. His head cants to the side, and he says, "ok."

Just a plain, "ok?" I ask but I take it as a verbal cue and move a little forward, testing my courage, my commitment to this thing, and say, "Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I think so."

"Do you get how we can't start whatever it is we are going to start like this?"

"I think maybe I do." And I don't think he's just saying it.

He stands up and closes the distance between us, "I never meant to hurt you, Vic."

"I know that, Walt. That's why I'm here. That and I can't keep running from you since we do work together." My thinly veiled attempt to alleviate this with any grasp of humor.

I try to smile but it falls flat, "You're wanting me to compromise even if you don't see it that way." I pause and add,"I bet you never had to do it before. Compromise, I mean."

He looks at me; his eyes are almost black, "Maybe not."

I reach up and put my hand on his chest, "I can't be a placeholder."

His eyebrows try to close the distance between themselves.

"Maybe you were distracted by Nighthorse and not by me and that's why you missed Barlow's lies. I can't take the blame, Walt. I won't take the blame. I missed them, too, the lies."

He doesn't say anything, just looks at me with those dark irises, "I'm not Martha. I can never take her place."

"I don't want you to be Martha."

"Your feelings aren't wrong, Walt. You get that, right?" Our eyes are searching for truth,"but if you feel guilty for being with me then…"

He puts his finger to my lips, "Vic, listen to me." His eyes are moving back and forth then land and stay on mine, "Maybe you're right," and his hand drops down to my arm caressing it with light soft strokes.

"But my guilt is not because I didn't love her enough. I did love her but it's that I..." He looks down at the patch on my uniform and his words stall out.

"Walt" I say, as I put my palms gently on his chest, on either side of the pearl snaps.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks softly, quietly, like it was a thought he didn't want to share with me.

I answer before I think, "Yes," because no matter how hard I try I know my control is fleeting.

He's slow and methodical his tongue eases and twists around like a conduit filling me with all that he feels inside and it's nearly overpowering but every processed thought and emotion I have felt in the past 24-hours is returned in kind and I swear we are going to explode right where we stand.

I break away first and stare into his eyes, "You shaved, again." My hand traces his cheek. The comment completely arbitrary.

"Cady got me a new straight razor this past Father's Day and I'm meeting her for lunch today. I thought it would be nice."

This is the reason I tell myself, the dichotomy, and it's so intense that I can barely contain it.

Somehow he manages to pull me closer to him, his hands wrapped around my waist, "Walt, we can't make this a habit at work, and besides I still need some time, ok."

"Let me just hold you, if only for a minute."

"I'm going with Ferg to the Assessor's office and we are going to see what we can find, oh, and the Planning office, too."

"Ok" His eyes are locked and I can feel the warmth passing between our bodies.

"While you're working on that I will meet with Doc Blumfield and go over the autopsy results, again." We stand there holding each other like it's a completely appropriate way to have a conversation at work.

"Your minute is up."

He smiles and steps back, dropping his arms while raising his hands in a modified defeat, "Will I see you later?"

"Duh, I work here."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

I turn back toward the door and hear him call my name.

"Vic"

"Walt."

He suddenly looks woefully serious, "Ah, I'll work on myself, too."

I smile and head back out with Ferg and update the spreadsheet feeling relieved and sad and hopeful and terrified all at the same time.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hi, Deputy Ferguson," Her hazel eyes peer above her reading glasses. She looks like a tax accountant with a Catholic schoolgirl fetish.

"Hi, Kristie." Ferg waves from his waist and his dimples look twice as deep as he smiles at her and I'm pretty sure this is only the second time I've seen Ferg attempt to flirt with any woman within a 1000 foot radius.

Kristie flashes her piercing eyes at me down then back up and I want to punch her and I don't know why except that she dares stakes her claim with me.

"This is Deputy Moretti," Ferg's open palm faces me and then he adds, "Vic."

"Hi, Kristie." She actually puts her hand out and I actually shake it.

"Nice to meet you, Kristie." I squeeze a little harder than I should but you know that's the point.

Ferg, still smiling, still with deep dimples says, "Kristie, we were hoping you could help us look up some tax records. You know if it won't take up too much of your time."

She bats her eyelashes but not too much just enough to keep Ferg looking at her and his cell phone rings and disrupts the non-verbal mating ritual occurring under my nose.

"Excuse me." Ferg, always the gentleman, steps away and answers the phone and I turn to look at glamour girl.

"You know Kristie if you play your cards right you probably can get dinner out of this with The Ferg."

She looks at me like she doesn't really believe me but she's thinking about it.

"Really Kristie go for it." I encourage her as Ferg steps back toward the counter.

"That was the Sheriff. He said we could reach him at home if we needed him."

"I think he's having lunch with Cady." I look at Kristie at having mentioned her ghost of a rival and I'm sorry that I did.

Ferg's face is so expressive and clearly he's not going to ask more than he should.

"So, Kristie here said she could help." I say diverting attention from my wondering mind.

"What can I help you with Ferg?"

"Ah hum we need to look at the tax records for these parcel numbers and the ownership information for the past 10 years."

He pushes the excel spreadsheet so that its facing her and she glances down then back up at me and I nod encouraging her.

"This is a lot of work it will take me a better part of the day."

"Oh gosh, Kristie I don't want to tie you up but we really need this information."

"Well, you can make it up to me." She's a little unsure of what tact to take but I think it's working to her advantage.

Ferg is a little peaked so I walk over to toward the front door, trying to be a good wing man, and I have more pressing things on my mind.

Turning around I see the new classic exchange of telephone numbers, Ferg punches in her phone number presses send and she saves him as a contact. So much for I wrote your number down wrong or giving out a wrong number who says technology is always good.

Ferg walks over and he's coming down from full blush mode, "Kristie will call me later when she gets all the information then we can hit the Planning office."

"Did you get her phone number?"

"Well, yeah, she's gonna call me."

"Ferg, you know what I mean."

"Vic, come on." He pleads from the prodding.

"Come on, what. You taking her to dinner."

"No." He's so like a little brother and I think how lucky one of these Durant women will be.

"Go ask her out, Ferg."

"Vic, I can't do that." He's serious and he's seriously going to miss a great chance with a cute girl.

"Yes, you can. She likes you." I poke my elbow in his side.

"Go on, I'll wait outside."

Ferg looks over his shoulder at Kristie who is typing on the keyboard like she's mad at it.

"You think I should?"

"Yeah, and hurry up. I have some shit to do."

I walk outside, don my Ray-Ban's, check my watch, and wait for Ferg.

Ferg joins me on the sidewalk, "Well, what did she say."

"I pick her up at 7."

I pump my fist, "Yeah, Ferg," and give him a high-five.

"Don't embarrass me, Vic."

"I'm just proud of you, Ferg."

"You are?" He sounds all surprised like he's just met me and maybe in some respects he just has.

"Yeah, Ferg, gheez. Maybe you will hit it off."

He suddenly looks sad like he realizes that it's not Cady.

"You ok, Ferg?"

"Yeah"

"You will have fun."

Driving back to the station I'm a little jealous that Ferg is a clean slate with no apparent baggage but secrets can be are buried deep.

Pulling up to the station, the Bronco is inconspicuously missing, and I park in front in my usual spot.

"Hey Ferg, lets grab some lunch before your girlfriend calls you."

"She's not my girlfriend, Vic." He's all bubbly and cute.

"Ah huh."

About a half an hour into lunch and most of the special Ferg answers a text.

"It's from Krisite. She won't be able to finish today and asked if we can come back tomorrow?"

"That's fine. Maybe we can go over the autopsy and spare Walt the trip and the time."

Ferg looks at me and I know he wants to ask, "Sure, Vic."

He takes another bite of his sandwich and washes it down with his Arnold Palmer that he still orders as half tea and half lemonade as if he has no idea who Arnold Palmer is or what it is but I suspect it's because 5 generations of his family have drunk it the same way so why start calling it something it's not other than half tea and half lemonade.

"Vic, did you think something was up with Barlow's story from the beginning?" His eyes are big and seeking and wanting to not be wrong.

"Honestly, Ferg, no I didn't suspect anything but I think it was a combination of shock and well I was otherwise mentally occupied." It's the first time I have referred to Sean since the divorce.

It's not that I don't want to talk about him it's just that I don't have anything to say. If I talk about him out loud it's like I am admitting my failure out loud to everyone and for everyone to hear. It's easier to pretend he never existed in the first place but I know it's the least healthy option and a very likely culprit of my fear of rejection.

Ferg leans in a bit and whispers, "Both you and Walt missing clues. That's surprising."

"Ferg, you know both of us have had life altering events and that's a lot of shit to deal with." I'm a little hard with him and I'm a little sorry I reacted roughly with him.

"Listen, Ferg. I'm sorry I snapped at you, ok. You didn't deserve that," because he doesn't and I honestly don't think he has a clue that I am in a constant state of denial masking my feelings and that is exhausting.

He gives me that closes lip faint smile.

"No problem, Vic." He takes another bite, covers his mouth with his hand, "I know you have a lot on your mind. How could you not?"

I wish I could talk to someone and sitting here with Ferg it suddenly hits me after three years that I don't have a best friend whose not the man I am in love with, I don't have anyone to talk to about what I'm feeling or what is going on and I miss that. I miss my crazy family, I miss my friends, I miss the familiarity of my neighborhood of my urban culture and sitting in this homey diner I realize I am all alone in everyway possible and it makes me suddenly deeply sad.

I take another sip of water and I think that Walt has to get it, he's the smartest person I know, do I really have to explain to him that I am terrified of failing in another relationship, that I'm here without anyone, and that no matter how strong I am I am still a deeply feeling completely vulnerable woman with a history of not so good choices. Do I really have to say that no matter how much I want to ravage his body I have an obligation to take care of myself and that doesn't make me a raging bitch it makes me smart for the first time of my life?

"What's wrong, Vic?" Ferg asks because I'm not covering up my emotions very well and yet another day at the Bee where I am not quite in check.

"I'm fine, Ferg." I lie.

"No, your not. It's obvious, Vic." He gives me a soft smile and I wish I could trust him with all of this but it's not fair and it's completely inappropriate to drag a coworker into this tangled drama so I work on my deceptive skills.

"Really, I'm ok, just tired."

"Vic, can I ask you a personal question?" His eyes are full and bright and hopeful.

I just look and nod and he asks, "Do you ever think about dating, I mean, since your divorce?" Suddenly he realizes that maybe he's being rude, "Oh, maybe you have but you don't talk about anyone. I mean it's none of my business."

He's embarrassed and I reach out and touch his hand, "Ferg, it's ok."

I take my hand back, "I'm not sure I'm ready, yet." I look down because I'm being honest with someone, finally.

"It can be a bit scary being here, not growing up here, and having a failed marriage is an added bonus." I smile at my sarcasm.

"Have you thought about moving back to Philadelphia?"

I can feel that knot back in my throat, the knot that is generally reserved for Walt, but it's the same emotions so it returns and holds its place. It's a protective measure of that I'm sure but I override it almost immediately.

"I think about it all the time." I look into his eyes and I see a friend.

"I think I would too but you're not alone you have me. I'm your friend."

"Thanks, Ferg. That means a lot." The knot gets a little smaller but its still there.

I drain my water and think that maybe I'm taking it for granted that Walt is as smart as I think he is because just when you think you know someone it turns out you don't.


	8. Chapter 8

While walking back to the station Ferg offers, "Vic, I was thinking of asking if I can take off a little early do you think Walt would be ok with that?"

"Yeah, why not?" I smile at him because I'm genuinely happy for him.

"Well, you know he can be moody."

"Yeah, that's true, Ferg but give him a call I'm sure he would be good with it."

"I don't want to interrupt him and Cady."

"Ferg, the man doesn't have a cell phone. What choice do you have, really?"

"I'll meet you inside. Just let me know what you are going to do."

I head up to my desk and feel a little more relaxed almost like the spigot was turned just enough to let some of the pressure off. I hear Ferg running up the steps and he turns the corner and by the look on his face I think it went well.

"He said, yes." Ferg smiles. "Oh, and he wants you to call him."

"Did he say what for?" Maybe a tactical mistake.

"No, why?" Ferg asks.

"Nevermind."

I pick up the phone on my desk and dial his familiar house number. He answers on the first ring.

"Hello." His voice is so deep and I want it to stay there and linger on my ear.

"What's up?" I'm trying very hard to relax and sound casual.

"We just finished lunch and I was gonna head over to see the Doc. Since, ah, Ferg is going to take off early why don't you join me. Maybe put our heads together."

"Ok, I'll leave in a few minutes and meet you there."

"Ok, see you there." He sounds good.

The Bronco is already in the parking lot when I arrive at Durant Memorial.

I make my way to the cold storage locker, that's my unofficial term for a very official place, and see Walt standing next to the Doc's desk with his hand on his hip, fingers pressed against his narrow hip, holding a folder of papers.

"Hey Doc."

"Hello, Deputy Moretti, nice of you to join us."

"What have you got?"

"The manner of death was ruled accidental and the cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head but you both already knew that."

Walt looks up at me and his hand goes flat as he points to the Doc with his whole hand.

"I asked the Doc to keep this close to the vest. Officially the case is closed and I really don't know what we have, if anything." He's locked in Sheriff mode and I respond in kind.

"Got it." I reach over for the file and Walt hands it to me, his fingers brush mine, ever so gently. I'm not sure if it's on purpose but it happens.

"If there isn't any forensic evidence to support anything other than an accident where do we begin?"

"We begin with a theory."

"Doc, the entry wound was here?" I point to my head.

"Near the right temple."

"Walt, stand here and turn to the side."

"Now Barlow said he was sitting and when he stood he tripped the shotgun went off and the buckshot hit Branch in the head."

I sit down and hold my arms in my lap, stand, and take a step forward as if I am falling and let out an audible bang.

"It is very plausible." Doc offers

"We can compare the height measurements and the distances all over again but we ruled out any inconsistency the first time."

Walt stays in his model position and the wheels are turning and spinning as he thinks.

"Shit." I say out of frustration and I look over at Walt and he's still spinning, processing, and he turns to look at me.

"How do you hold a shotgun?" He asks me.

I put up my empty hands in an air shotgun position.

"Ok, now after you shoot, what do you do?"

"What kind of shotgun do I have?"

I see the spark in his eyes, "Barlow was shooting a Perazzi MX8. He would have to break it."

I simulate shooting and then breaking open the shotgun.

Walt points at the air shotgun, his arm extended, "That's it."

He starts for the door and he's full tilt.

I look back at the Doc, "Thanks."

Running to catch up, "Wait the fuck up, Walt."

He stops on a dime, turns toward me, his face is in full fury, and I stop in my tracks.

"Walt." I say, like I'm talking a suicidal subject off of a ledge, "Let's talk about this."

His hands are gripping his hips, his leg jutted out, as he looks to the wall and back at me; his eyes are deep and dark revealing the intense wrath that is yet to be waged.

"Vic, I can't believe I didn't see this before." For a moment it looks like his eyes fill but they don't and he turns to look at me, again. "I'm furious at myself." His jaw clenched tight.

I step closer to him, my protective mode kicking in, thankful we are in the basement of the hospital and not out in the open where anyone could see his anger or this moment of weakness.

"You're thinking that if Barlow was sitting down he would have the shotgun in the break position so if he stood up to take his position on the line the gun wouldn't be locked and in essence loaded. It had to be a purposeful action. Am I thinking what you're thinking?"

"Exactly what I'm thinking." His eyes roll up to the ceiling then back down and the fury is still there. "How in the hell did I miss it?"

"Walt, you're not the only one that missed it."

"You didn't grow up with Barlow or around shotguns for that matter. I don't have an excuse. It's my responsibility, Vic, to stay focused."

I'm searching for the right words to say to him because I've seen this spiral before and if he goes down the rabbit hole again we won't give Branch the justice he deserves.

I step forward and touch him just above his belt because I need him to snap out of it but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Walt, look at me." It's an order and he obliges.

His head slowly turns toward me and he says, "I was so preoccupied with Nighthorse I was blind to what was right before me. You were right earlier and I knew it the moment you said it."

"You have a chance to make this right. We have a chance to make this right."

He nods without saying anything and I start to take my hand back but he slides his hand under my fingers, "I'm glad you stayed. I never told you but I think maybe I should."

My heart is beating at an unsafe level but I stay silent having learned from the master.

I take my hand back and start toward the exit. Walt passes me and opens the door, I walk past him, and he asks, "By the way, how did you and Ferg make out at the Assessor's office?"

"Kristie is going to call us with the info tomorrow it was too much for her to finish in one day."

Walt nods, his mind playing catch-up.

"Ferg may be making out though."

"What?" He looks at me perplexed.

"Ferg. He and Kristie are going out tonight that's why he asked to get off work a little early. You know to get ready for his big date."

Walt doesn't bat an eye and just smiles that toothy grin and that short chuckle, "ok"

We make it to the parking lot and instead of getting into the Bronco he walks over to my truck, leans in the open window, his big hands falling inside, his wrists hang on the ledge of the door sill and says all soft like it's a secret between us, "There's something else you should know."

I don't respond I just wait. I'm learning a thing or two about silence.

"I do sometimes get completely distracted because I'm absolutely crazy about you and I, ah, I am working on that." He sorta smiles and the blood starts to creep up his neck, "I'm working on the distraction part I mean but my faults are mine and no one else's, ok."

"Ok." I drift into those blue eyes that are back and I think of how broken we both are.

"I have a question for you." Not asking like a question.

He waits, exercising his patented silence, "Are you opposed to a working dinner?" I ask

"What did you have in mind?" His eyes completely open taking it all in.

"We can go over the case, say my place at 1930, but I'll cook I need some vegetables."

He pauses as if he's waiting for me to change my mind.

"No, expectations, Walt."

He looks, not blinking, "No expectations."

He drives away in the Bronco and I sit for a moment thinking that he really is my best friend and I've missed him.


	9. Chapter 9

"You cook pretty well for a cop." He smiles and takes a closed lip swig from his bottle of Rainer. I notice how delicate he looks drinking his beer and it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen and I tell myself to stop, just stop it.

"Thanks, I didn't know you even liked vegetables."

"I love them but you know I don't do such a good job of making them for myself."

"I'm gonna make some coffee then we can go over the spreadsheet and see if there are any patterns." I get up from the table and stack his plate and utensils on mine and move into the kitchen.

"Hey, you forgot about desert."

"Do you want the strawberries now or do you want to wait a little bit?"

"Now." He pats his stomach. "I saved room."

He starts the dishwater without being asked, rolls up his sleeves, and plows right in washing the dishes.

"You don't have to do that, Walt."

His back is to me and he looks so long, so lean, even with his shoulders hunched over the sink with the soap bubbles halfway up his forearms.

"I don't mind, besides what kind of friend would I be mooching a home cooked meal and not cleaning up afterward."

"Thank you." I say while staring at the back of those thick thighs and I ask surprising even myself, "Is that how you and Martha worked it out?"

He doesn't turn around but keeps washing, "We had the, I cook you clean rule, so yeah, I guess so. I cooked mainly on the weekend and a lot in the summer."

He turns his head to look at me while I grind the coffee beans.

"I turn a pretty good steak." He smiles like he is remembering good times and there's no sadness in his face.

I smile back and start the coffee maker, "Sorry, bud, no French press here."

"It's ok." He keeps looking at me, "I'm sure it will be good."

He finishes the dishes, dries them and puts them away.

"Ok, you're freaking me out, Walt. How do you know where the dishes go?"

"I'm a paid and professional observer in case you haven't noticed, yes the pun is intended, and I watched you take everything out when you were cooking."

"Sneaky"

He sits back down at the kitchen table and I serve him a bowl of strawberries and cream.

"You want coffee?"

"Yup"

I go get my workbag and I find myself actually smiling. It's nice having him here. Hell, it's nice cooking for a man and I know that I probably shouldn't think that but it's how I feel.

"Ok, here we go." I take a sip of my coffee and point out the columns, "Here are the dates, the parcel numbers, the fees, and the name the transactions were recorded under."

"How many did you and Ferg find?"

"We just went back two years and we found 23 but Ferg asked Kristie, you know the analyst at the Assessor's office, to go back ten years."

"Wow, that's a lot of work."

"Yeah, but she's getting dinner with The Ferg out of it." I smile and he smiles, it's the big smile, and it is genuine.

"I hope that's enough." He chuckles.

"Hey, Ferg is quite the catch."

"You think?" He asks like he has honestly never ever put Ferg in a romantic context.

"Fuck yeah."

He raises his eyebrows a little suspicious maybe but a whole lot funny.

"Walt, it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for, Ferg is a sleeper."

"I keep trying to remind you of that." The corner of his lips turn up just a tiny bit and his eyes train on mine.

My face goes to that instant hot that I hate. How the fuck does he do that. How can he have that effect on me and I have no control.

I refuse to buy into it and look back at the spreadsheet after sipping some coffee.

"Ok, I've looked and I'm not sure I see any pattern but there has to be one I'm sure of it."

Walt picks up the spreadsheet and I watch his face change into the serious intimidating Sheriff investigating a potential homicide. I pull my laptop out of my workbag and open the same excel spreadsheet and study the same information.

We sit in silence and do what investigators do, we think.

I refill our coffee cups and serve up seconds for Walt for desert all in silence and finally I break it by saying, "I don't fucking see anything, Walt. What the fuck?"

He doesn't react instead he drums his long fingers on the table and looks towards the living room as if he never heard me.

"It's the locations. I think that's the pattern. We need a map."

Eager to find a clue, I'm a bit to excited, "You think there's a map on the county website?"

He just looks and shrugs his shoulders and I can feel my head tilt just a bit because I realize it's pretty stupid of me to ask Walt what is or what is not online.

The sound of my nails clicking on the keyboard seems excruciatingly loud because it's the only sound in the room. Walt starts drumming his fingers again and then just as suddenly he shifts in his chair and pulls those same long stems onto his face and strokes his chin, which is abnormally clean-shaven.

"It has to be the location of the parcels it's the only thing that makes sense."

Walt stands and moves into the kitchen cleaning his bowl and coffee cup. It's that dichotomy thing again. I can't allow myself to let these thoughts creep into my conscious. I can't go there, not yet, anyway.

"Fuck, they don't have anything posted and I can't translate those parcel numbers into addresses that don't exist to use Google maps and get a satellite view."

"Do we have the latitude and longitude?"

"Not online. I think we are going to have to wait for Kristie to do her thing."

"Let's hope Ferg took her to a really nice restaurant."

I roll my eyes because I can't help but roll them thinking of Ferg on a date and I laugh because it makes me happy although I'm a bit surprised by my happiness for him.

"Does that reaction mean we may hit a dead end on this investigation?"

"No, it just means that I'm actually happy for Ferg."

"I'm not going to push but one day I hope you are that happy thinking about me."

Without warning, so fast that it hits supersonic speeds past my instincts, Walt's face changes and his eyes shift down as he wipes his hands with the dishtowel and I'm up and on him my hands on his smooth face and I know I can't help it or myself. His eyes are back in that super dark deep seawater blue and I fall into them just as our lips touch. Walt's arms surround me and he walks forward and my back is against the living room wall as he presses against me our tongues joined our hands roaming free when suddenly he stops.

His hands are pressed against the wall next to my head, "Vic, I promised I wouldn't push."

He snaps up the snaps on his shirt that somehow got unsnapped between the kitchen and the living room.

"You're not pushing." I'm convincing myself as much as I'm trying to convince him.

"I think I better go home." He looks a little shy for a moment and I touch his arm.

"Walt, this is probably a stupid thing to ask, but do you want to talk. I mean about anything."

He looks over like he's thinking about all the things he wants to say, his hand hits his front pocket and then lifts and hangs in mid-air as he offers, "I told you I was a bad husband because I was, Vic. I loved Martha. I was in-love with her and my love only grew stronger as our years passed but I wasn't there for her a lot in our marriage or when she needed me most and I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for it and I do feel guilty about it and I do feel guilty about how much time I have with you because I didn't make that time for her."

He's looking at me and I don't stop him. I just listen, absorbing his confession. "I realized the other day when you talked to me in the office that I have a choice. I can choose to be guilty or I can choose to be thankful. Thankful for the love I had and thankful for the opportunity to love again and that maybe I can learn from my mistakes, that I can make time, and spend time and not take time for granted."

He steps inside of my space once again and reaches down his fingers caressing my arm.

"I hope you understand because sometimes I don't think I understand. I'm all twisted inside." I kiss the corner of his mouth because I want to.

"I've had a really nice evening, Vic. Thank you for the meal and for the company."

"I had a nice time, too."

He smiles and picks up his hat and coat as I walk him to the door.

"You think Ferg had a good date?" I ask trying to break the tension.

"I hope so." He laughs. "For all our sakes."

He opens the front door and turns around.

"Would you be mad if I kissed you good night?"

"I would be mad if you didn't." I smile as he leans down, his free hand on my cheek, and he wraps his jacket filled arm around my waist and kisses me super gently like I may break.

"Good night, Vic."

"Good night." I close the door thinking this is what it's supposed to be like falling in love with your best friend.


	10. Chapter 10

Ferg beats me into work again but Walt's not in and that is unusual.

"Mornin'."

"Morning, Vic." I set the plastic wrapped morning paper on her desk.

"Thanks, hon." She begins to unwrap the paper, "Walt will be in later he's having an early breakfast with Cady this morning."

"That's nice." I say trying to say the right thing and it happens to be true.

"Sure is." She smiles and starts reading the paper.

I drop my bag at my desk and I try to judge by Ferg's demeanor if the date went well but Ferg is just Ferg and finally I can't take it anymore.

"Are you going to spill it for fuck's sake?"

Ruby comes over with a cup of coffee and places it on my desk.

"Thanks, Ruby."

"What's going on over here?"

"Nothing," I say like I'm suddenly snitching out my little brother for breaking curfew.

"She wants to know about my date, Ruby." He smiles.

"Oh" she says and her wrist goes limp like I'm asking about yesterday's news.

"What the hell, Ruby knows?"

"She knows everything, Vic. Gheez, don't you know that?" He shakes his head like I'm the stupid one in this conversation.

"Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to kick your ass?"

He smiles that big deep smile that makes his dimples twice as big.

"I took her to Bozeman's and it was nice. We have a lot in common. She's a sweet girl."

"So….are you taking her out again?"

"I'm not sure. I was thinking about calling her today and asking her out for next weekend since I'm on-call this weekend. Maybe we can go hiking or fishing something like that."

"Fishing? I know it's your favorite pastime but fishing, really?"

"Yeah, Vic, fishing. She fishes, I fish, it's Wyoming. Hello."

"Ok, I need a fucking drink 'cause clearly I'm in the fuckin' Stepford wives town."

I didn't hear him come in which is surprising but I hear his booming voice, "Why do you need a drink at this hour?"

My heart stops. I wish it would stop doing that when I experience and unexpected appearance by him. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale as unnoticeably as possible trying to reset my heart rate. I'm sure that constant extra shot of adrenaline is bad for me. I have to get myself under control.

"Just joking"

He smacks his lips and picks up his post-its from Ruby. He looks all business this morning and his door slams behind him.

"Looks like somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed." Ferg whispers to me.

"You think?" I say agreeing with Ferg partly to not raise suspicion and partly because Walt definitely has his don't fuck with the sheriff attitude this morning.

I begin to obsess about Walt's mood and I tell myself that his attitude is not my problem. I can't own something that doesn't belong to me. That's what I tell myself but believing that shit is fucking difficult so I make every effort possible to dive into our half-a-clue spreadsheet and think of it as an anonymous victim that has fallen into the very capable hands of the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department.

Ruby comes over and hands me a post-it, "I didn't think I should give this to Walt." She puts the note down on my desk and I look up into her worried eyes.

"Ok, I will take care of it."

Ruby goes back to her desk and I follow her, lean against her desk, "You wanna let me know what's going on?"

"I haven't seen him like this in a long time."

"I thought he had breakfast with Cady? What happened?"

"He did and I don't know." She's clearly worried which starts to freak me out.

"It can't be that she's dating Branch, again." It's rude, it's insensitive and I said it.

Ruby's eyes burn into me and look away. I'm suddenly ashamed, "I'm sorry, Ruby."

"Vic, what possesses you?" It's my grandmother's good sense and her simple question is worse than any punch in the face.

"Stupidity."

I sigh and get my courage up and knock on Walt's door but this morning I wait for permission.

"What?" He doesn't exactly yell but clearly I'm bugging the shit out of him for even thinking of knocking.

I open the door and close it behind me. Walt is standing looking out of the window, hands on his hips, face in a scowl.

"You want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Nothing is going on." He says not looking at me.

It's that instantaneous pissed that comes over me, my arms fold across my chest and my leg sticks out, because now he must think I really am stupid or worse he has completely disregarded me.

"Walt, cut the bullshit" but I don't say it as mean as I wanted too because Ruby is still in my head and I really need to be more sensitive.

He turns and looks at me and his face is unrecognizable from the anger pouring out.

"Breakfast didn't go so good." His hands still stick to his hips like he's ready to draw.

I just wait. Practicing that newfound silence and sensitivity.

Walt looks back out of the window and I walk over and stand closer but not too close and I wait.

He doesn't look at me, "I told Cady about us."

His head turns on the us and my heart drops to my knees, again, these adrenaline dumps cannot be good for me.

I try like hell to cover my shock but I don't think I do a good job at it, "What?" and I can feel my face contort to mirror my feelings.

Walt stands in front of me, still keeping his distance, "I wanted her to find out from me that I am courting you."

"You're what?" I'm still in a bit of shock.

"I'm courting you."

"Walt, what the fuck?" My hand grabs my head hoping to push some understanding into my cranium.

His face falls, clearly not understanding the problem.

"Walt, why would you tell Cady, without talking to me about it first and what's with this courting bullshit."

He doesn't raise his voice instead he gets eerily quiet and his voice is hard and it scares me a little. "Well, I am."

The silence takes on the third person in this discussion.

"Aren't I?" He asks in that same eerie voice.

It takes a while for me to answer and for my hand to find it's way back down to my side.

"Walt, I mean, you didn't think to talk to me first? There are consequences here."

He retreats into that steel veneer that is completely impenetrable.

"Clearly, I made two mistakes. Don't worry, it won't happen, again." That voice again.

I turn to walk out but the better part of me or the worst part of me depending on how you look at it turns and I rip, "You can save the hurt as fuck bullshit for someone else, Walt because you know if we are a couple or whatever you want us to be you would have thought about me first and talked to me first."

Stepping half way across the room I get in his face, "And here's a newsflash for you. In the future, before you go off all half-cocked, I have a brain, an opinion, and I sure as fuck better be the first one to know what the hell is going on where I am concerned. My name isn't June Cleaver and you don't make all the decisions for me."

This time I turn on my heels and walk out slamming the door behind me and I pull up my duty belt before I sit down. I suddenly realize that I was pretty loud and I raise just my eyes and look over at Ferg who is intently reading the spreadsheet and Ruby is buried in the newspaper.

It's as quiet as a church mouse the silence continuing its role as an interested third party.


	11. Chapter 11

"Are you alright? You were yelling pretty loud?" Ferg has an innocent inquisitiveness about him, which is very disarming, but honestly I'm not feeling it right now.

"What time did Krisitie say she was going to be there?"

Ferg checks his multi-function GPS watch, "Ah, she said she would have everything ready by 10:45 or so."

"Cool, you mind if we stop for some coffee? I didn't exactly finish mine this morning."

"I don't mind."

Silence is back filling the space between Ferg and me in the cab of my truck. I can't be mad at him too he didn't do anything wrong.

"Sooooo, Vic, you wanna talk about it?" He grimaces like I'm going to hit him and that makes me concerned because I have a big mouth but I never have resorted to physical violence, ever.

"No."

"Vic, come on its not like I'm not your friend."

"Ferg, its so uncool for you to be in the middle of anything especially work stuff."

I look over at him and he looks over at me and says, "If you say so but have you ever thought it is more uncomfortable for me by not knowing what is going on?"

He looks out of the window then back at me, "I'm not trying to pry, Vic, but it's pretty obvious that something's going on and has been for a long time. I'm not stupid."

"There's nothing going on."

"Ha, yeah right. I should be insulted."

I consider what he says.

"Ferg, it's not like you and Walt haven't had issues in the past and you know me adding to it would just not be a good situation for either of us."

"Vic, the difference is that we had some differences and I handled it like a spoiled brat by blowing up but you know what, he actually listened to me even after he lost his temper. I notice how he includes me in things now and lets me take the lead on stuff. He's not perfect Vic and yeah he makes a lot of mistakes but he doesn't usually make the same mistake twice. He learns from them and he cares. If you ask me, that's the measure of a man."

"That's like the most words I've ever heard you say at once."

I deflect once again because his words sting and they hit hard and I suppose they should.

"Well, if you decide you want someone to talk to I'm here. I told you, I'm your friend, Vic. I meant that."

"Thanks, Ferg." He makes me miss my brothers and my family and I want to drive straight to Cheyenne and get on a flight and go home.

Ferg comes out of the coffee shop with 3 drinks and places the tray in between us on the bench seat.

"What's with the extra coffee?" I ask because clearly I am not in the proper frame of mind.

"It's hot chocolate for Kristie."

"Aren't you sweet." I gently punch him in the arm.

He smiles and blushes just a little, "Just being considerate. I mean we aren't going to finish our coffees in the next two minutes. I don't want to be rude or anything when we walk in with ours."

We traipse into the office and Kristie is waiting for us with a smile on her face and when Ferg gives her the hot chocolate her smile grows just a little bigger and she suddenly becomes so pretty.

"Thank you for the coco. How did you know I needed one?"

"Well, you mentioned last night how much you like coco and I thought I would surprise you."

"That's so thoughtful. Thank you."

She takes a sip, smiles again, and sets it down and then hands over the report in a manila folder.

"All of the information you requested is there. I hope it helps you in your investigation."

"Thank you, Kristie we appreciate your time." I say and turn toward Ferg hitting him the shoulder with the folder, "I'll meet you in the truck. Take your time."

I sit in the truck and think about how the pieces of this puzzle are going to fit and how it could possibly be a motive for Barlow and my mind drifts back to Walt and how we are ever going to understand each other.

What's the common denominator? I repeat the refrain in my head thinking about the parcels there has to be something more than the locations but all my mind comes back to is me. I'm the common denominator.

I'm the one that has the broken relationships. I'm the one that is divorced. I'm the one with a former stalker and the one that Branch tried to choke out. I'm the eye in the storm.

I wipe the tears from my eyes before I realize that I am actually crying. Now, I'm just happy for the small things like the fact that Ferg is still inside the building.

If I sit here and think about this too much I'm going to completely fall apart and I can't have that under any circumstances.

I press the number two on my phone for speed dial, "Sheriff's Department," Ruby's voice comes through loud and clear.

"Hi, Ruby, is Walt there?"

"He hasn't come out of his office since this morning."

"Can I talk to him, please?"

She doesn't say anything and she doesn't put me on hold.

"It's ok, Ruby. I promise."

"Ok," I hear the vacant silence of being put on hold.

"Yeah, Vic."

"Can you talk?" My voice is filled with emotion even though I don't want it to be.

"Not really. Not here anyway."

"It's my turn to say sorry. I am sorry for yelling at you."

"Apology accepted. I'm sorry, too."

"We are heading back. Krisite was able to get the information. Do you think we can maybe go somewhere later and sit down and just be for a little while?"

Silence is back playing a strong role in this conversation.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Vic. You were pretty clear this morning."

"If nothing else we are working together and we've always done that well. I don't want us to mess that up, Walt."

I wait for the pause.

"I know a place."

My heart starts beating again and it is in that moment that I know what I know and its time for me to cut out all the bullshit and get very real with myself.

Ferg jumps in the truck just as I hang up and he is lighter than usual, if that is at all possible.

The ride back to the station is pretty quiet and as we turn onto Main Street, Ferg pipes up, "I'm taking Kristie to the art festival next weekend."

"That sounds cool, Ferg."

"Should be fun."

"Yeah," I say.

We spread the spreadsheets out and Ferg reads the lat/long info for each parcel and I load it up on Google earth and Walt cross plots it on a large county wall map.

As we go through the process we hit a rhythm that we haven't had since we were all together with Branch and as much as I don't want to admit it I miss him. With each plot point on the map and each tiny pin pushed in with Walt's huge hands I think of how we are pulling back the curtain on the evil that took Branch's life and how we really don't know how deep this will go.

Ruby comes in with fresh coffee and fixes everyone's cup just the way we like it.

"Thank you, Ruby." Walt sips his and he does that sexy lower lip thing and I notice but I don't let it distract me as we go through the process of labeling and tagging another parcel.

When we finally make it to the last one I say, "What the hell is this?"

We all step back from Walt's wall and stand and stare at the map.

"Well it's not exactly a straight line." Walt says.

"There's nothing there, yet. So why are these parcels important?" Ferg asks.

"Terra Firma." Walt adds, "I'm telling you it's the reason but we just don't see it, yet." He turns to Ferg, "Have any permits been pulled?"

"I'm still waiting to hear back from the Planning department."

"Get them on the horn, no better yet, go down there in person and see if any permits correspond with the parcels we plotted out."

Ferg steps forward and snaps a couple of pictures with his smartphone.

Walt looks at him like he's an alien.

"It will be easier to explain to the planner if he can see it." He gives his thin-lipped Ferg smile.

"k" Still not fully embracing modern technology but refusing to rain on his parade.

Ferg saunters out of the office and Walt turns to me, "You ready?"

I look up, "Yeah," and I am.


	12. Chapter 12

"What is this place?"

"I used to come here a lot when I got out of the Corp. I was able to find a little peace being here."

I follow him up about an 1/8th of a mile, it's not too far, but it's remote with an awesome view of the small tiny valleys and rolling hills and peaks.

I never think of Walt having fought a war and I think how I never think of all the things he's seen and lived and been through but I know it's there because it's one of the reasons I don't think I'm good enough for him and it's why I act the way I do.

Walt untucks the blanket he held pressed against his body and his arm and lays it out on the grass. He sits down with this legs folded, arms wrapped around his knees and looks up at me and pats his hand on the blanket and raises his hand up out of instinct I'm sure but I take it and sit beside him.

"I seem to always make you mad, Vic. That's not good." He starts clearly indicating he's troubled.

"We are so different." I say because it is true.

He looks out into the valley, lifts his hat, scratches his head and reseats his hat again.

"That's becoming clearer."

"Is that bad?"

He looks at me, "I don't know. I just know I don't like to fight with you. I don't like it at all."

"Me neither. I had an entire marriage filled with fights and I don't want that for myself ever again."

We both are silent, he's joined us again, and we sit.

"I told Cady because I was excited and I haven't been excited about anything in a very long time. I should have talked to you first because really we haven't decided we are anything, yet. You were right about that but I don't like the way you talk to me sometimes. It's like you don't respect me as a man."

He turns his head and he's looking at me.

I look up at him hearing his words and he says, "I won't stand for it, Vic."

"Walt." He's still looking at me, "I understand what you're saying and it's definitely something I will work on but I need you to respect me equally."

"We both have to be considerate." He says and he makes it sound so simple but I guess it really is.

"Can I ask why you were so upset this morning?" I ask and I'm resolved to hear the worst.

He plucks a few blades of wild grass with his hand and begins twisting it back and forth in his fingers suddenly looking like a little boy.

"Cady expressed some concerns."

I wait but he doesn't follow-up.

"Like what? I ask but it comes out the way I want it not like a confrontation.

He looks over at me considering all that we said and how he's going to tell me and if he's going to tell me.

"She's worried about our compatibility more or less."

"It's the more or less I know I need to worry about."

He looks back at the valley.

"Can you be more specific, Walt? I know it won't be flattering but I think I should know." For a moment I think he doesn't want to tell me because he doesn't want this thing between us to continue but just let it die a natural death.

"Are you not telling me because you don't want to see me anymore? I mean outside of work."

"No." He looks at me his eyes are so blue and so clear, "No, that's not it at all. I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have and I don't see what good it will do to repeat it."

"I know you have been listening and I know you're just trying to protect me but what you're doing right now is the stuff that upsets me."

He's still staring trying to translate.

"I've asked you a question and you think the answer will hurt my feelings so you don't tell me because you want to protect me but the fact that you aren't being candid and transparent with me hurts more than whatever it is you're hiding. You're protecting me from the wrong thing."

"She thinks you aren't good enough for me and that I'm having a middle aged crisis and when the heat wears off I will find you vulgar and unattractive but you won't be so easy to get rid of as Lizzie."

"Fuck, she said all of that!"

"Yup."

I feel sick to my stomach but I asked for it.

It's my turn to stare into the valley and make silence my best friend.

"What did you say to her." Finally striking up the courage to hear his response and hoping he had one.

"I told her that her concerns weren't mine."

"What are yours." Since those are more important.

"That you would eventually become bored with me and Durant and that you would want to go back to Philadelphia."

"But I stayed."

"I know you miss home, Vic. I have been a few places in my life where I was, in essence, alone but I always had the comfort of knowing I was coming back home. Durant isn't your home."

"It's not right now but it could be."

His eyes turn a lighter and brighter blue as he looks at me.

"I think about home a lot and I fantasize about getting on a plane and flying home to Philly. I won't lie to you but I also think about you and about Durant and about how this could be my home."

He continues to stare at me his face is set like stone.

"Is that all you said to Cady?"

"No, it's not."

He looks into the clouds like there's a secret cue card with words printed on it in the sky and his eyes come back to me but he's super focused and he turns onto his hip facing me and he leans forward and puts his lips on mine and he kisses me.

This time when I kiss him back I can't think about anything but how much I love him and how in love I am with him and have been for such a long time. I have absolutely no interest in fighting it anymore.

My arms collapse around his neck and his hat falls off landing on the blanket next to me. While his tongue probes a little deeper his arm wraps around me lowering me onto my back and I welcome his embrace as we become tangled, and sweaty, and twisted into each other.

I unsnap his shirt while he lays a trail of kisses on my neck and collarbone forcing a sizable moan from my lips. Walt rises up and pulls off his shirt, his bare man chest in front of me and I run my fingers over him and down his stomach and back around thinking about all the times I thought about it. His hair has fallen forward and his eyes are back to that deep dark black and all I see is love staring back at me and I hope it's not what I want to see and that it's really there.

I smile at him and he smiles back as I shed my shirt, my tank top and my bra, so we are evenly undressed. He takes me in his hands and his hands are so big, and so warm, and so gentle. His mouth soon follows along with several moans and as he makes his way down with his lips to my belt but he stops and rises up on his forearms.

"I want you to be sure, Vic."

My heart is beating so hard and fast I can feel it on the precipice of losing complete control and I say, "I'm sure."

I'm sure that I love him as he unbuckles my belt his strong fingers agile and sure.

He waits for me to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans, which is a little difficult because they are pulled tight against an obvious reaction to the hard bulge beneath.

He showers my body with his caresses and kisses and I feel like the most desired woman in the world as he looks at me and kisses me at the exact moment he presses himself against me and I groan because I want him so bad but this time I tell him, "Walt, I want you so bad. I need you."

It's over almost as fast as it begins and without saying a word he pins my arms on either side of my head, intertwines his fingers, and I smile because I'm happy and he smiles and his face is warm, his eyes are that soft blue.

"What else did you tell Cady?" I ask because laying here in his arms I am confident enough to hear it.

He doesn't hesitate or flinch, "I told her I was in love with you." His eyes fill, "I know now that I should have told you first but please don't hold it against me," and as he kisses me I know with all certainty that I love him and this will not be easy but he's worth it, he's worth all of it, and as we begin to make love again I whisper in his ear, "I love you, too and you're the first to know."


	13. Chapter 13

"I never planned this." He says like he is embarrassed.

"Neither did I." I smile and he smiles back. "Are you sorry?"

"God, no." He kisses me and holds me; his hands are so strong and so gentle at the same time.

I can't help but be intoxicated by his glistening eyes which look completely satisfied and that sweet smug smile that has been absent the past few days comes back and he's so damn handsome that I can't help but start a long lingering and smoldering kiss.

"It's getting cold." I say because I can feel the effects on my body and he must feel it too because he looks down, smiles, and puts one of his hands over my breasts completely covering it but it's not rude or offensive. He's tender and leans in and kisses my neck whispering, "I can warm you up if you want."

I smile into his neck feeling the heat in my face and he smells so good his post sex, outdoor, sweat, man scent is driving me absolutely insane.

"Walt, I need to shower." I keep my head tucked inside of his neck because I'm a little embarrassed by the fact that we had sex outside, twice, and we were definitely unprepared either time which makes both of us a little crazy and a lot stupid.

He continues to kiss my neck and my throat while keeping his hand in place and hugging me closer to him and I feel so loved, so safe; I never want to leave this place.

"Walt."

He stops and looks at me, his face completely relaxed but impenetrable at the same time, "I know we need to go."

Kissing me once more before standing up he takes my hand and I stand next to him as we fold the blanket.

We hold hands down the hill and when we reach the bottom he turns and pulls me to him, "Dinner with me tonight?"

"On one condition." I say.

"Uh oh, giving orders already."

I laugh, "My place, again? I really do need to bathe and I really don't want to share you with anyone so can we eat in?"

"Yup."

"I'll make something healthy."

"Can I help?"

"Absolutely."

"I mean with the shower and with dinner."

That instant heat rises and I can feel my face burn but I don't say anything instead I just smile because the cat has definitely got my tongue.

Walt follows me home and once inside it's a little weird having a new lover, let alone, having Walt as my lover but he seems completely comfortable with the notion.

In the shower he says, "I have another confession to make."

I'm almost afraid to hear what he has to say, "Go ahead." I say tentatively.

"I've dreamed about this very moment a million times and now that its here it's a little surreal."

"You dreamed about us taking a shower?"

"Among other things."

At that, it's on and I'm all over him water be damned. He presses me against the wall of the shower and his mouth is all over, his hands and arms support my weight, and his eyes go all sexy dark again.

"Three times in one day, Walt, this has to be a personal best." I say as the dirty girl buried inside of me peeks her head out for a test run.

He stops, rises up, and looks me dead in my eyes, "If you're talking in a 24-hour day not even close."

"Oh fuck, you're kidding!" I say and the rest is all moans, groans, grinds and expletives.

Afterward, in the kitchen, he starts the salad while I start the brown rice, broccoli and grilled chicken.

He's standing next to me in just his jeans, the rest of his clothes in the washer with mine, and he's so sexy. I can't help but stare at him because this is what I dreamed of and I can't believe it's here.

"Your legs all wobbly, yet?"

"What?!" I elbow him playfully.

That smug smile appears and his teeth shine white.

"You're awful confident."

His eyebrows rise up and down as he puts a cherry tomato in his mouth.

"Your next campaign slogan should be, Vote for Longmire – Sexual Dynamo."

He laughs, "If you think that will get me the women's vote I'm all for it."

"I'm not sharing."

"Me, neither."

He turns serious for a moment, turns toward me, and just looks at me.

"Walt you're freaking me out what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, Vic."

I feel his fingertips taking my hand in his, "I don't want to piss you off so I don't want to take this for granted so I figure just now that I better just say it."

"Say what?"

He touches my cheek for just a moment with his free hand, "Now that you're single I can only imagine the opportunities for you but I want you all to myself."

"Oh, Walt." I kiss him and as I hug him, standing on my tiptoes, "I only want you. That's been my problem all along."

We stay like that until the timer for the chicken sounds.

"We better eat." I whisper.

"Yeah, we're gonna need our energy."

"You plan on burning more calories?" I offer up my best vixen voice.

"Yup."

"You are a wicked wicked man, Walter Longmire."

He laughs and says, "Just a lucky one."

I make our plates and Walt tends to the laundry. I think he's a good partner in the ways that matter. For a moment, I'm proud of myself for turning the corner and allowing him in but there is a small deep part of my heart that is terrified of how I feel because it's new and scary and raw.

We sit down and I ask, "Um, are you staying with me tonight?"

He looks up with a mouthful of rice, his face a little red, and swallows, "Would you like me, too? I mean, I would like to but I mean are you worried about my Bronco being parked out front all night?" His thumb pointing back to toward the driveway.

The lump is back in my throat and I swear I think I'm going to stop breathing because now the insecurity is back and it's in full force.

He reaches over and takes my hand because obviously my face reflects my fears despite my best effort to cover up the terror I feel inside.

"Vic." His voice is so deep and so velvety.

"I just don't want you to be uncomfortable or embarrassed about me that's all."

He moves his chair next to me and leans in with both his hands covering mine, "I meant what I said earlier," and he leans in and kisses my cheek.

"So did I." I say and he kisses my ear, and then whispers, "What time should we get up in the morning?"

I smile though I feel this intense sensitivity pouring through me and I'm so scared I start to tremble. He wraps his arms around me and for once I am truly grateful for his silence because I think that I don't deserve him and that Cady has my number but he just doesn't know it, yet but he will and when he does he will leave and this will end.

This is not forever I tell myself. This is not forever.


	14. Chapter 14

Ferg's boyish got a clue grin is in full effect as he clicks away at his computer. Sheer panic hits me because I don't have an alibi. Walt doesn't have an alibi for being late or at least he doesn't have an alibi that he shared with me. Like all rational people, I decide to ignore the fact that Walt is uncharacteristically late, and I carry on as usual.

"By that shit eating grin you must have found something yesterday." I bark. My usual bark.

"Yeah, I think so." He says with super intensity while clicking and printing.

"Why didn't you call me, Ferg?" I think that's reasonable like I think that's what I would say if I weren't hyper paranoid about having sex with our boss not once but three times yesterday.

What kind of person am I to do this? I know better than to acquiesce to passion. What has that gotten me in the past?

"Fuck" I think. Then it goes from bad to terribly worse when I hear those distinguishable heavy boots on the wooden steps.

The lump in my throat that I have become so familiar with is back and this time I'm going to pay attention to it and allow it to keep my mouth shut.

I try not to look up at him when he opens the door but I can't help it and he looks so good and I feel the heat rise and my inner thighs tighten remembering him filling me up with his thick hardness.

"Mornin'" He says like none of last night happened.

How the hell can he be so cool? I ask myself and realize that it only adds to the mystique called Walt Longmire and that thought makes me want him even more and then I wonder if it's medically possible to be addicted to a person. I consider calling the Doc and asking but then I will sound as maniacal as I feel right now.

As he struts by, he gives me that smug little grin and a little wink. Yeah, he's feeling pretty good about himself and really he should but then I press play on the tape recording in my head. The one that says I don't deserve him and that he's too good for me and that because I want him so bad I will do everything to ruin it even if it's not on purpose.

I try to press the pause button to stop the repetitive message but it's stuck on a loop and I'm stuck in my chair trying to appear normal but I'm not normal I know that this is a watershed moment. A moment that unfortunately will probably repeat itself over and over and that unless I get my shit together, quick, fast, and in a hurry I will destroy the best thing that's ever happened to me.

The lump stays loyal and silence has become a dedicated ally until the tension leaves my body.

"So spill it Ferg. What did you find, already." It sounds good when I say it.

"Ok, look, Vic." He points to him computer and points to a corresponding print out matching up the parcels and the numbers ensuring there is a pattern.

I stand over Ferg's shoulder and check the pattern.

"I see it but I don't see it. What the fuck?" I say and it does sound good, normal, like I would say it if the seams weren't coming apart.

"The parcels form a straight line if you hook them together but obviously not all of the parcels are congruent." Ferg explains.

I still stare looking and trying to make the connection.

Walt steps into the doorframe of his office with a few papers in his hand, a hand that rests on his hip, and he looks like a Marlborough supermodel. Then I think that the Marlborough man was pretty sexy and I thought that as a gangly pre-teen when smoking was cool and maybe I've had some sort of pent up cowboy fetish since puberty but didn't want to admit it.

What the hell am I thinking as I stare at Ferg's computer screen trying to avoid making eye contact because the desire to touch him is too great and then I hear those ropers cross the floor and I look up but my eyes land on the six buttons of his 501's and now that I know what is beneath them my mouth literally waters which just confirms that there must be a clinical definition for this.

Walt stops next to me, turns, and looks at the papers on Ferg's desk and casually at the computer screen. He points to the spreadsheet, "What ya got Ferg?"

Ferg explains, "See the pattern here. " He points.

"Now imagine a line connecting all of the properties."

Walt scratches his jaw with his very long and very capable index finger and runs his tongue under his upper lip then back down and around his lower lip then makes that sexy smack when he connects all of the dots which in this case is literal.

His finger moves from his jaw and prances gracefully toward the papers, "There's nothing in the middle?"

"No, Walt, that's just it. It's just purchased property on either side. Maybe they haven't gotten around to buying it, yet."

"Maybe but, " He pauses and stops and looks at me which has a reaction in places I don't want to mention and for a moment I think he has a reaction too because he has clearly lost his train of thought and it's a pause long enough to make it a little bit uncomfortable.

Then he smiles and I smile and it is officially uncomfortable because I think he is remembering. He breaks first and looks over at Ferg.

"The one thing the Seabees did first was bulldoze and pave out an airstrip. If you lock in the properties on either side it's easier to take over the surrounded acreage in the middle at lowball prices."

"But who would want an airstrip way out there, Walt?"

I look at Ferg as if it's a really good question because it is but it hits me and it hits Walt and then Ferg sort of like falling dominoes and it's as if we are all afraid to say it out loud because by acknowledging the fact that it may be true it will be true.

"An airstrip would only benefit the casino." He hits his thigh with the papers he was holding and I know that the shit storm is brewing out in the distance gaining strength and picking up bits of shrapnel as it makes its way to us.

Walt heads back into his office and begins to rummage through his desk drawers and I can hear the frantic rush in his movements as the closing of the drawers becomes a little louder with each slam.

Ferg looks at me like it's my turn to deal with the rage but I look at him like what the fuck am I supposed to do but in the end I get up, take a deep breath, and make it to the doorway.

"Hey." I say

He looks up for just a second and I see a quick flash of his eyes and then they are back down searching for whatever it is he is looking for.

"What are you looking for?" I ask as if we have never heard of the casino.

"A map." He says like I should be inside of his big brain.

"You care to elaborate?" I'm proud of myself because I'm talking to him in professional mode.

"An old map of the county."

I just stare at him because I find his ferocity entirely attractive in an animal sort of way and I think it's really wrong to find his quiet rage attractive but I want to bottle it up and use it.

"Hey, Walt." I step inside and close the door behind me.

He keeps looking and I keep walking until I'm next to him.

"Hey, Walt." I touch his shoulder and he stops and looks at me still bending over the side desk drawer.

Instinctively my hand makes small circles on his shoulder and onto his broad back. It's loving and it's tender and it is entirely appropriate.

"Walt."

He doesn't quite straighten up when his arms collapse around me but he pushes me against the desk as his long legs do straighten and he's between my legs, one hand on my face and the other around my waist.

His blue eyes are burning into me and it scares me because I've never seen him look like this before. I've never seen him look at me like this before.

"You consume me." He says all deep and all hungry.

Before I can really capture what he says his lips hover just above mine like he's waiting for permission and I give it to him. Our tongues dance in rhythm, it's slow, and it's gentle and it's full of all the love I have ever craved or imagined.

When he pulls away, I know there's more, I know I don't know all of the secrets and I think that those secrets may destroy us but if I don't know it will destroy us.

"Tell me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything." I say.


	15. Chapter 15

"There's stuff I haven't told you." His hand rests on my thigh and he glances down as if he is about to apologize but his eyes rise to meet mine and there's compassion there and I swear I see fear. I recognize it.

"You need to understand it's not that I'm hiding anything from you."

I stroke the hand on my thigh and say, "I don't think you are."

"I'm not…it's just that…you know I'm not too good at this." He looks a little shy and a little embarrassed as his ears pin back.

"We don't have to do this here." I say it for my benefit and I know that's selfish but I really do have to keep some level of professionalism and right now I feel all weak and exposed and it makes me think he does too.

"I want to tell you." He says but it's not a declaration more like a quiet confession.

I look into his eyes and they are a little wet and a little tired. I lean forward into the crook of his neck and wrap my hand onto the protrusion of his upper back, it's tense and it's tight, "Walt."

All I manage to say is his name because any attempts to reason left when he kissed me and he doesn't say anything he just knows. We stay like this for a few moments and I break away first.

His long strong fingers gently grace my face, "After work, can we talk then?" It's a plea.

"Yes."

The rest of the afternoon is spent with all three of us mind mapping and brainstorming about possibilities, probabilities and plausibilities.

"Ferg, can you do a history on each company or individual that bought those parcels then find out if they are subsidiaries or anyway tied to the casino." Walt directs and then he turns to me.

"Vic, contact the title companies and find out how the properties are held."

"Ok, what are you thinking."

"I'm thinking that it's still about money and power."

"You think Nighthorse is involved." Ferg says and calls out the 800-pound elephant in the room in the process.

Walt shifts his weight, anchors his hands on his hips, bites his bottom lip then says with certainty, "Yup."

He waits a beat, looks at me for reassurance and turns back, "And Barlow, too. We just have to prove it and see where it leads us and if it leads us back to Branch."

"Sheriff, do you think Branch could have found something while he was working for his Dad?"

Walt shakes his head. "That's exactly what I think."

"But Walt, he didn't tell any of us." I look at both of them for affirmation.

Walt shakes his head, "Maybe he couldn't prove it, yet."

"He could be an asshole but he was a good cop and a good guy."

"He lost his way." He says, taking stock, taking ownership.

That burden is part of the everything.

The room remains silent as we all take stock in our part because really we are all a part of Branch's story whether we want to be or not and it creates an unbearable pain that lays dormant beneath the surface waiting to erupt.

"I'm going to ride out there and take a look around." He says and grabs his coat perching his hat on his head.

I have a moment of crisis waiting for him to ask or do I assume so I do neither and I stay at my desk and he walks out.

I dampen down the tape that starts to play again but I stop it this time because I have to be focused on the task at hand. While, not an official murder investigation, it's close enough and it's personal enough so the war of insecurity that wages inside is temporarily derailed.

"So, Vic, I don't want to be insensitive but do you think it would be ok if I asked Walt if I took the lead on this?" He's shy about asking.

"I think you already are the lead, Ferg."

He doesn't smile instead his countenance turns blank, serious, and his lips purse accepting the responsibility.

"I will follow-up with the Planning Department if you don't mind, Vic. I mean I know you were supposed to do it but the title company may take a long time."

"No, that's a good plan. Maybe Kristie knows someone to light a fire under their ass."

He smiles and I think he's thinking about Kristie's ass but I don't close the deal and for a moment I think about Walt's ass and that just confirms that I'm in that vulnerable place right now but I better tighten it up and I better tighten it up straight away.

"Let's go to City Hall, Ferg, and get some face time."

He smiles, "Sounds good but let's wait until Ruby comes in." He looks at his watch, "She will be here in a few anyway."

I get up and start making some coffee, "You want some?"

"Sure, Vic." He looks surprised that I would ask.

I make enough for three cups and just as the last drops drip into the glass pot Ruby strolls in.

"Hey, Ruby, just made some fresh if you want a cup."

"Oh, thanks, Vic. I could use some."

She smiles that sweet smile and I'm glad I know her. I'm glad she's here and she is in our lives. It's strange to think these thoughts but I do and I try to not be too awkward or too kind because that would be just plain weird.

"Ferg, where's that stupid tumbler?"

"It's on the shelf." He points up.

I pour his coffee into the green Cabela tumbler with pictures of various varieties of trout. It's stupid but it's Wyoming and it's Ferg.

"Let's go." I bark as the sensitivity begins to shed.

"Things seem better between you and Walt." Ferg says after we walk a block.

"For now."

"You don't sound too optimistic."

We cross the street and I say, "He's a moody son-of-a-bitch."

He scoffs, "Ha, like you're not!"

I burn him a sideways glance as I swing open the heavy glass door to City Hall.

"Well, I mean you're not a …you know..but you are moody, Vic."

"Don't piss me off, Ferg."

His face goes blank and I can't help but smile and he cracks and smiles.

Ferg's face brightens as he makes eye contact with Kristie and he waves a quick wave and she smiles back.

"Hi Kristie."

"Hi Ferg."

"I was wondering if you could help us out with who we need to talk to over in Planning to expedite our investigation?" Ferg asks and he's nice and she's sweet.

"Well, Mr. Peterson is the Director. I can walk you over there if you want."

"That would be nice, Kristie, let's go." I offer up deciding that the potential sweethearts are making me a little repulsed and a little jealous because I've never been like that and I think it would be nice to be like that and I think Walt would like me to be like that because Martha surely was and that this could never last and I hate myself for thinking it because his body doesn't seem to doubt and neither does mine.

Peterson, a James Arness, body double shakes Ferg's hand as he towers over him. He gives me a thin-lipped smile and shakes my hand almost like he's deciding if women can really be in the field and if I am worth his time.

"Mr. Peterson, we were wondering if you could help expedite the process in looking up any potential plans or permits for the parcels I have identified on this spreadsheet."

He looks up and files his fingers through his grey hair. It's perfectly grey and perfectly in place. His broad lips widen, "You Ferguson's boy? The roofer?"

Ferg's chest rises a bit, "Yes, sir. I am."

"Your father has done a lot of work in this county, pulled a lot of permits, can't recall ever getting a complaint."

Ferg remains silent as he soaks up the pride and I wonder why he's not a roofer and a part of the family business but I dismiss it just as quickly because just I can't imagine Ferg in the long days sun swinging a hammer, baking a potato on a hot engine block, let alone whistling at pretty girls walking by. As odd a fit he is for a deputy it's even worse imagining him in construction.

I expect him to ask if we are going to accept his mission but he drums his fingers on his wooden relic of a desk and offers, "Will this afternoon be soon enough, Deputy Ferguson."

He looks over and says, "Deputy Moretti," and smiles and it makes me think I was all wrong about him.

"Thank you, Mr. Peterson." Ferg says as he shakes his big hand again.

"Thanks" I offer as a way to meet him half-way and he smiles again.

"You're welcome, Deputy Moretti. It is my pleasure."

We walk out of the office and Ferg waits until we get to the sidewalk.

"Vic, I think he was flirting with you." He smiles real big like he gets it.

"Gheez, Ferg, not everyone is flirting."

"Ha, that's not what you said before."

I pull on my shades, "Nope, you got me confused with Walt."

His face crinkles with doubt and I think I still got it I just have to keep it.


	16. Chapter 16

"It's really quiet here." I say because it is and because he's quiet in a quiet place and that can be quite unnerving.

"Conducive to thinking." He says

I sip from the ridiculously large plastic State Fair souvenir cup. The iced water tastes just as ridiculously good going down. I'm sure it has something to do with well water. It tastes different.

Walt strokes the handle of his coffee cup with his index finger bending and curving the shape of the digit around the roundness of the handle. It's like his thoughts are trapped in that half circle and he is prying them out.

"Martha held secrets." His eyes stay on the circle of his coffee cup.

I wait because it seems like the respectful thing to do.

"I don't think she held them to hurt me." His eyes come up and meet mine and they are so intense and focused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she didn't tell me everything and I knew that our entire marriage." He says like it's the hardest thing he's ever said.

"You were ok with her having secrets?" I ask because it seems like a reasonable question and well it is laying down the rules for me in a very narcissistic way it's in my very own best interests to listen.

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Because everyone has secrets."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"And you kept them from her?"

"Yes."

I take a very long swig of the ice water and lick the beads of water from my top lip clearly a substitute from saying something stupid.

"I knew she was getting in deep with the casino and that she was making enemies and I've come to find out that she knew it too but she never told me."

"Do you think she just didn't want to worry you?"

"No, she kept it from me."

"Why?" It's not adding up.

"Vic." His eyes move back and forth almost like horizontal gaze nystagmus and then they stop because he has decided and he says

"I loved her, you understand, but that doesn't mean I always agreed with her. So, I didn't push. I didn't want to always know what I knew and in the end I failed her. I failed her because I knew she was in too deep but I was naïve to the danger and I never should have left her alone in Denver. I never should have put work before her and I did."

"You mean you didn't support her stance against the casino?"

"I did but I didn't." He sips his coffee.

I wait and let the silence take his place at the table.

"It's one of those things. It's so big with the biggest players in the county and the state behind it I knew no one could stop it."

He finally moves his finger from his cup and up to his jaw, rubbing it back and forth, almost like he's surprised he grows whiskers.

"I was resolved to try to control the growth and slowly integrate it into the community. I could see the economic benefit to the Rez just as I could see the detriment to my way of life. The casino is like a storm in the Big Horns. You know it's coming but there's nothing you can do to stop it but you can control your reaction to it."

"You weren't threatened by that?"

"Hell, yes. I was, I am, threatened by it but I would have to think an awful lot of myself to think I was more important that all the other lives it would affect in a positive way.

"You are important to the community, Walt. The entire community."

"Not that important."

"Your best friend, who is a part of that community I might add, was willing to go to prison for the rest of his life for you because he recognizes your value, your worth."

"Henry is romantic."

"Henry is right."

"Martha and I disagreed on it but I respected her and I supported her as I could but it created issues for me as Sheriff and it was hard on me sometimes but I know she loved me Vic and she would never hurt me on purpose."

"I think I understand."

"No, that's what we need to talk about."

That lump reappears and I swear it has doubled in size.

I wait for him.

He starts to speak but doesn't looking down at the table then his eyes flash up to me and they are tired, exhausted really, his hand reaches over and he slides his long fingers over mine and just rests them there.

"I don't know where this will take us and…" He pauses, "it scares me a little."

"My secrets you mean?"

"Yes." Then he adds, "and mine."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why did you lie to me about Gorski?"

"I was scared." I wipe my eye clearing from the moisture gathering on its edge and, "I was embarrassed."

"I was afraid of your judgment"

"Did Sean know?" His voice is soft.

"I told him about Ed before we were married. He knew the whole story."

"And after."

"Yes." I say just as softly.

"What secrets are you keeping from me?"

"I'm afraid I don't deserve you." He says and the lump is back in my throat but this time to control the tears that are falling from my eyes because I can't believe he feels this way.

"Walt."

"And that I want you more than anything."

I don't bother wiping the tears anymore because they are the kind you really can't control. They come from that deep place.

He reaches up with his other hand and swipes away the flood of tears with his thumb.

"Don't cry." His eyes are full and wet.

"Walt." It's all I can get out right now but I want to tell him I love him.

He leans over and kisses my cheek, then my temple and leans next to my ear, "I'm right here."

My arms are around his neck and he pulls me close and I feel the tremendous heat coming from him and it matches my own.

His arms wrap around my waist and he's gentle as he pulls me onto his lap, my legs on either side of him, his big hand is behind my calf holding my leg in place, his other big hand on my hip. Our lips have found each other and our kiss is deep and noisy.

He begins with the first button on my shirt and asks, "Did you leave your bag in the car?"

I shake my head, "I didn't bring a bag."

"Aren't you staying?" He asks and he stops unbuttoning - concern flashes across his brow.

"I didn't want to be presumptuous." I don't smile because I'm really very serious right now.

"I don't know my place, Walt. My place in your life. This is so new."

"You're my lady." He says his hands on my waist.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're my lady. You're with me." He kisses my face then my lips, "It means you're mine."

He brings his lips close to mine and says, "It means I love you, Vic, and I don't think that's ever going to change."

"It means you want me to bring a bag next time." I say.

"I think it means I want you to leave it."

"Walt."

He kisses my neck and his lips trail down and he unbuttons my blouse, "ummm hmmm".

"It's too fast." I know it is. My moment of clarity that substantiates my fears.

Looking up at me, "Huh?"

"I'm afraid it's too fast. I'm afraid I'm not good enough for you." The truth liberates me.

"It may be but your are." He affirms.

I return his kiss and I lose myself as our tongues join and I feel his fingers on my bare skin, past my ribs and over my bra. He holds me there and waits for me to look at him and when I do he smiles that smug smile that is so infectious. He makes it feel right but it's not but I ignore it.

Pulling my shirt off I stand up and he leads me to the bedroom where he unsnaps his shirt and it's off and my hands are on his chest before it hits the floor.

"Those scars are those another secret?" I ask.

"I tracked down Miller Beck in Denver. I tried to kill him. His meth head friends had a knife. They got me before I could get him."

"Is that why Henry was in Denver?"

"I called him. He came. He helped. No, he rescued me. An old wise Cheyenne woman sewed me shut. She saved my life."

"It's not like you to miss. Why did you?"

Our bodies are pressed together, standing on the edge of his bed, his arms on mine.

"I was full of rage, it was blinding, and I didn't assess the situation properly and it cost me these." He points back toward himself with this thumb.

"I'm sorry." My fingers trace the scares as I put my arms around him moving closer.

"Don't be sorry, Vic. It was more about me than Martha. It was about me making up for not being a good husband. It was about me not protecting her. It's taken me a long time to admit that's why but it's the truth. I made it about me and that was wrong."

I bring his head down to mine and he kisses me again and I can feel his body react through his jeans and when I look down I know there's no mistaking the now familiar rise in his 501's.

Before I can say Sam Brown we are naked and in bed filling each other with kisses and moans and groans. Walt moves up to his knees, between my legs, his hand on my stomach and he teases for just a moment before I let out a miniature scream.

"Walt, please, don't stop loving me."

He enters me and my body reacts, it's instantaneous as he says, "I'll never stop."

I can't explain it but in the core of me I know, as a woman, that Martha had a lot more secrets than he knows about and I'm terrified she will reach from the grave and this time she will take him with her.


	17. Chapter 17

"I never cheated on my wife." He says in the still night air, which is slightly permeated by the smell of our lovemaking.

"I never cheated on Sean." I say and add, "but I thought about it."

His features are so prominent, so authoritarian like he should be on Mount Rushmore.

"You thought about it?" His voice is even and deep and I can't tell if he's teasing.

"You know I did." I make sure it sounds like a tease and I lean into him a little more.

He chuckles that baritone chuckle and his teeth glisten as he smiles.

"You know there's some other things we need to talk about, Vic."

I'm not nervous when he says it because I'm still basking in the security of the afterglow.

"Spill."

"We're not kids, you know."

"Speak for yourself."

Another two-syllable chuckle escapes from his skillful lips.

"I'm assuming you're on the pill?"

"Yeah, I am, and if for one second I thought you were the kind of man that would put me at risk I don't think I would have kissed you let alone had unprotected sex."

He turns on his side, facing me, he moves his head to my pillow so he's in my very personal space but it feels good like he belongs here.

His hand runs down my arm.

"No, I would never."

"I just had my annual exam so I know I'm good."

"I can't say the same, Vic. I mean about the physical. I hate doctors."

"What man doesn't?"

Another chuckle.

"If you won't go for you, you need to go for me."

"I will. I promise."

"Why didn't you have more kids?"

He doesn't pause, doesn't have time to make the story sound nice, "We had a few rough years after Cady was born. I mean rough as in it was rough for Martha resolving herself to being married to a lawman."

He looks into my eyes, "She never signed up for the 24/7 aspect of this profession Vic." He rolls back onto his back in his previous position but the entire side of his body still presses against me. He feels good.

"It was hard for both of us and there were times I didn't think we were going to make it." His hand goes up to his forehead like he is recalling those hard times.

"I wasn't going to leave my daughter and I didn't want Martha to be a single parent, you know, I loved – I love being a Dad but it was tough."

"So you decided to just stop with Cady?" It's not an accusation but a gentle question.

"I don't know if we decided." His lips go wide like he does sometimes when it looks like the words are getting sorted in his head.

"It just sorta turned out that way but I suspect that you know Martha made sure we didn't."

"One of her secrets."

"Yup"

"But you knew"

"Yup"

"How sad."

His head cants towards me, "I don't want your sympathy."

"Walt."

"I'm serious, Vic."

"Well, I am, too. If I can listen to you talk about Martha and not get fuckin' weirded out why are you weirded out talking about it?"

He's quiet.

"I know this is deeply personal shit but damnit, Walt."

He turns back toward me but he doesn't say anything.

"I don't want to hide anything from you." I say to him because I think that's what he's thinking.

"There's no reason for me not to trust you." He says and I think that is an odd thing to say an odd thing to think.

"Should I worry about trusting you?"

"Never trust a man who says trust me. I don't remember who said that but I think there's some truth to it." There's no chuckle this time.

"Walt." He's off in that space in his head retreating back to years past.

I run my hand up his chest and he encloses it with both of his hands, bringing my palm to his lips, where he gently kisses my fingers.

"I've never told anyone these things, Vic. It's stuff you know you keep deep inside, stuff you think will just be for yourself, never to share with anyone and well you know I get a little…well a little..taken aback…at how easy it comes out when I'm with you."

He continues to caress my hand and he's so gentle and so loving. He breaks one hand away and it's back on his forehead.

"I knew I shouldn't have married Sean but I did because he was safe. He didn't leave because I wouldn't quit my job. He left because he knew I was in love with you even before I was willing to admit it to myself and I'm ashamed of that."

"You were in love with me?"

"It took a while for me to figure it out and accept it but, yes."

"It's because we spent too much time together."

"We are partners, Walt. Partners spend more time with each other than their spouses."

"That's what Lizzie pretty much said."

"Ah yeah." He sounds embarrassed.

"What happened, Walt?"

He looks at me and runs his long fingers on his forehead, "It's kinda hard to explain, Vic."

It's my turn to be quiet.

"I was flattered and I was running from my feelings that were emerging for you." He pauses and I think he's deciding just how much he's willing to tell me.

"The night of the election party I stayed to help clean up and well she offered one more time and this time I took her up on it but, " He clears his throat and his voice cracks just a bit, "I knew I didn't want to be there the whole time I was with her. I felt like an asshole for having sex with her knowing I didn't want anything more and I felt like an asshole every time I walked out on her because I never shut her down. I strung her along."

"You mean you felt like you owed her a fuck."

"No. It was more like I was running from you instead of running toward her."

"She was a distraction you mean."

"God, that just makes me feel worse."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I know but it's not my proudest moment, Vic."

"Why did you break up?"

"We were never together to break-up, Vic. We never dated, you know, I didn't love her."

"She wasn't yours."

He looks at me, hard.

"No, never. What happened was Cady's accident."

"What"

"When I saw her in Cady's room, sitting by her bedside, I felt sick to my stomach because I knew it was wrong, it was all wrong, and it was like my selfishness brought all this bad shit down on Cady."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Do you believe that what goes around comes around?"

"Well, yeah."

"That's what I mean."

I wait.

"I put myself first, to satisfy my desires, Vic but I knew that was wrong when I did it and I believe that the universe sets those things straight. The bad that I put out on someone who didn't deserve it was paid back on someone who didn't deserve it."

I'm quiet trying to understand the complexities of this man in my arms.

"Just like all the bad shit I did in Denver and how Henry paid for it, Hector paid for it, Cady paid for it and Branch paid for it."

"Like how Sean paid for Gorski."

"Exactly."

"How do you set it straight?"

"Seek forgiveness and personal sacrifice."

"What did you sacrifice or did you make a sacrifice?"

"Henry helped me earn Eagle Feathers."

"I don't think I want you to explain anymore metaphysical complicated shit right now."

He moves my fingers down, just above his nipple on both sides, and I feel some scar tissue there.

"These scars were the sacrifice."

"I don't want to be a sacrifice."

"Neither do I, Vic."

He turns back and faces me, "I want to trust what I feel for you and what I think about you."

"How did Branch pay for what you did in Denver?"

"David Ridges."

"How did he end up in Denver?"

"Jacob Nighthorse."

"We just can't prove it."

"Not, yet."

"Is that why you have been all cray cray?"

"Cray cray."

"Crazy, Walt."

"Not crazy just serious. I'm tired of his bullshit and he knows it now."

He leans in and kisses my lips like he is sealing a promise.

"I'm not going to kill him, unless I have to, but I'm never ever going to let up because I know he was behind it, Vic."

"I expect nothing less." Then I think about what I'm saying and how the man that I'm in love with pretty much confessed to attempted murder last night and how that didn't phase me then I think there may be something seriously wrong with me and it's like he can read my mind.

His fingers caress my face and his eyes soften but they are a stormy grey, and this time, when he kisses me it's slow, methodical, and it's like the database in his head is processing all of this and downloading it and he's telling me without saying anything and I swear it's like my body gets light and my head is swimming as if it's not really real.

He wraps his unsuspecting enormous arm around me and pulls me as close as possible and it's like I'm falling inside of him and I feel him trying to crawl inside of me and it feels good knowing he's there in that space. I want him here and I want it to last, now, while I have it, I will cherish it. I promise myself and I promise him without saying a word.


	18. Chapter 18

"I was thinking about what you said last night, you know about being here, being the Sheriff, in this small town. I don't think I could appreciate the pressure unless I could compare it to Philly."

"What do you mean?" He asks sipping his orange juice.

"Well, you know in Philly, I could disappear into the scenery. When I was off-duty, unless someone knew me how would they know I was a cop?"

"The bulge at your hip." He smiles.

"Well besides the gun." I laugh. "Seriously, Walt, I know we all carry off-duty and I know that we are all on-duty even when we're not but here it's different."

"Lucian had a way of explaining it to me when I was first brought on the job. He said, 'Son, you ain't gonna get any days off. Once people know you're a deputy you will always be a deputy. They will interrupt your dinner, ruin dinner parties, and always ask you to take action. It don't matter what day of the week it is or what time it is and people don't pay no mind to it. He was right."

"My pop would say the same thing. He would say, "would you ask a plumber to stop a leak when he was walking down the street with his kids? If you wouldn't then why would you asking me about a ticket you got?"

"Exactly."

"Exactly." I say.

"Is that the part she didn't understand?"

"It's the part she didn't sign up for."

"Neither did Sean."

I sip my orange juice and look out of the windows into the morning sun.

"The difference is that I was a cop before I got married."

"Yeah."

"Martha, it sorta happened too."

"It was a raw deal."

"For both of you."

"I suppose so but for her mainly." He pauses and takes another sip. "It seemed like every time we had something planned something would come up but it's not like I didn't love her or love being with her it was the opposite really I never had the luxury or the right to turn off Deputy Sheriff Longmire."

"In this small town you couldn't escape it even for a little bit like I could in Philly."

"Think I should move?" He smiles.

"Ha! Now that would be a fish out of water."

"You sayin' I wouldn't make it in a big town?"

"You would be fine. You lived in L.A."

"Ah, you remember that."

"Yes, I remember everything you say."

"I'm in trouble then." He smiles.

"You think that's why cops marry cops and doctors marry nurses because they get it?"

"Well, most tv shows are about cops and doctors so there must be something mysterious to us."

"I never thought of that."

"Most folks don't."

"If you had to do it over, Walt would you?"

He stops and turns his head looking outside like he's trying to reign in the past.

"I don't know which part I would do over." He looks back at me, his blue eyes really blue, "I would definitely marry Martha, have Cady, but maybe pay more attention to Lucian and what he tried to teach me."

"Lucian, really?" I say kinda high pitched.

"Yeah, in his way, he tried to warn me or teach me how to balance my family with the demands of our profession but you know Lucian never had to do those things and I suppose it's because he was Sheriff he never had a family. He decided he only had one life or one heart to give and that was to the County and not to a woman. In the end, I probably didn't give either one my all, but it's not because I didn't want to or didn't try, and that's my burden to carry."

"It's mine, too."

"It's all of us who wear a tin star or a gold badge."

I look down at my fingers holding the glass of juice. Then I look over at Walt the gray in his hair highlighted by the sun bouncing off it and the red and brown strands peeking through.

"Walt."

He turns to look at me, his face nearly covered with an official beard for not having shaved for three days, "I don't want that to be us."

"It can't be."

"How can you say that."

"We both know what we we've gotten ourselves into."

I wait by way of asking

"You will not only understand the phone call at three in the morning when its not my turn to be on call you will probably be with me."

"And I won't have to pretend work was ok because I can't explain to you why talking about a decapitated body or a dead baby over dinner is just not ok."

"Yup."

"We just have to figure out what the rest of the world has."

"What's that?"

"How to be normal."


	19. Chapter 19

"What did you find out Ferg?" His voice is eerily deep this morning like he was outside of a bar smoking cigarettes at two in the morning in the cold air instead of in bed with me and it strangely turns me on.

"Here, Walt, let me show you." Ferg clicks, drags and drops and shows us his computer screen. He's created a flowchart of information from the county offices.

If you start here you will see the original titleholder, the times the property has transferred and the present owner. The highlighted lines are the names that own multiple parcels.

You can see that there is an interesting pattern emerging.

"Connally Construction, Big Pines Timber, and Two Rivers, Inc." Ferg explains.

"Ok, Connally Construction, that one's easy but what about the other two." I ask then it clicks, "Two Rivers as in Cassandra and Aaron?"

Ferg nods his head and smiles like he's happy I figured it out so quickly.

"I think so, Vic but we are still waiting for the title company to call back to confirm it."

"Oh, shit." I say. "What the hell."

Walt's leg jets out like it does when he's pondering and his hand is in the air pointing toward his office, "Cassandra." He looks at me, "Didn't you find a bunch of maps on her property, Vic?"

"Yeah, me and Branch. You think something in those maps has something to do with this."

His lips press together as the smokestack starts heating up between his ears.

"Do we know who actually owns Big Pines Timber? Whose behind the corporation."

"Not yet" Ferg says.

Walt turns to walk in the office and suddenly stops and snaps his finger and points at me, "Vic, Big Pines Timber, that's the company that is running the Basques' out of their land. It's whom Amaya Vayas made the deal with for Marko's share of the land before she poisoned him. I want to know who is pulling the strings."

"Walt, we gotta get this up on the wall." I say

We follow Walt into his office and tape the huge tick crate paper to his wall next to the old county map that he finally found. My mind goes back to Philly where we had sophisticated built-in whiteboards and electronics and here we are reduced to crate paper but I have the very same confidence we are just as skillful, perhaps even more so, because we don't have the resources.

"So, we got Cassandra Two Rivers which we will confirm with the title company, Big Pines Timber and Connally Construction and between them they own 23 parcels." I say out loud

"That's right." Ferg affirms

"The question is; are they in this together or competing against one another?" Walt says.

"Shit." I say because the puzzle pieces are there but they are not forming a picture, yet.

"What would they have to gain?" Walt is processing now and it's what he does best.

"Land equals power." Ferg says and he's right.

"Land that has value." I say because I'm right.

"Land's value is in the location." Walt says and he's right, too.

"What if you're right, Walt and its an airstrip. An airstrip for the casino why wouldn't they be partners why competitors?"

"If you control the airport you control the commerce from outside of Durant and Absaroka. It kinda makes you the shot caller." He says, "The King among Kings."

"What would Vegas be without an airport?" Ferg laughs at us.

"I cut him a look."

"What?" He looks back, "I went for a bachelor party. It's in the middle of nowhere Vic but it's everywhere let me tell you."

He smiles big and he looks so dopey but I love the guy.

"Remember, Ferg, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." I can't help it and honestly I need the levity.

"I know and besides I don't remember much about the trip to be honest."

"Good, that's how it's supposed to be for bachelor parties." Adding to the lightness.

The phone rings and Ferg, out of instinct walks back to his desk to answer it.

Walt stands a little closer to me but not in my space and says low, "I'll remember you said that."

"Said what?"

"The thing about bachelor parties."

"It holds for bachelorette parties, too, don't forget that part either." I know I'm talking big but it's ok because for the first time in the past week I actually feel settled in myself.

"That was the title company." Ferg says and he looks a little fidgety.

"What did they say?" Walt asks.

"They confirmed that the Two Rivers, Incorporated is held by both Cassandra and Aaron Two Rivers."

"Connally Construction is well Barlow and they are still researching Big Pines Timber."

Walt walks up to the crate paper, hands on his hips, and just stares then reaches up and scratches his clean-shaven face.

"Why would Cassandra buy up those properties? Where did she get the money?" I ask out loud as Walt studies the board.

"Pull the evidence from her case. We need to go over it again. Then it looks like a trip to visit Aaron. Maybe he can help fill in the pieces." Walt says

"What about Amaya? Maybe she knows something we don't." I ask and Walt shakes his head in agreement the stitching starting to take shape in his big brain, his eyes turning into that piercing grey, as he plots and plans.

"Walt, maybe Branch did figure something out but it would have to be earth shattering for Barlow to kill him." Ferg says all quiet like he doesn't want to acknowledge it may be true.

Walt draws his finger in a circle, "Let's keep this between us. Of course, I will tell Ruby, but I don't want anyone knowing we are digging deep into this."

He looks at me and I see the concern, the love and he looks over at Ferg and gives him that slight smile, then he's back with us back in the present.

"Ferg." He pauses for a moment, "You're doing a great job." And he does that head bob thing and Ferg does it back and I fall a little more in love with him at that moment.

Then he's back in Sheriff mode, "Vic, get the evidence from both the Vayas and the Two Rivers cases. Ferg, stay in touch with the title company. I will start working on search warrants for the IRS and for the accounting books."

"Do we need some help with that? Maybe a CPA?" I ask

"Yup. I know some pretty good ones?" He says

"Here in Durant?" I'm all big city sarcastic.

"Yup. They are known worldwide. I'm sure you've heard of them Vic."

"Who?" My head rolls a little bit and my eyes a whole lot.

He walks past me and winks, "They just go by their initials, FBI."


	20. Chapter 20

I hear his boots before I see him move next to me, his denim clad long legs stop, and line up next to my desk.

"You making progress?" He asks, it's his inquisitive voice, not commanding, not domineering, just in the moment.

I lean back and stretch my neck, my hand behind my head, my breasts rise up with the stretch and I let out a sigh.

"Was that for my benefit?" He's super soft in his delivery.

I can feel my face flush because it wasn't on purpose and it's something about him looking at me with his eyes closing just a bit, hyper-focused and desirous.

"Ah, this may be presumptuous, but dinner tonight. I was sorta planning on it." He asks but doesn't ask.

He moves a little closer while still standing over me.

"Are you making fun of me?" I ask.

"No, why?"

Now his thigh is slightly touching my shoulder and it's just us in the office and I want to rip his clothes off but this isn't the place.

"Presumptuous?"

Now I can feel his weight, though slight, and he bounces just a little.

"Hum?" His head is leaning down and he puts the papers on my desk.

"I used that word the other night."

He's not going to move and I'm really having trouble concentrating.

"Oh. I see." And he does and he knows what he's doing. This addiction, I'm close to believing there's such a thing.

"Walt."

"You can touch me. You know."

"You're such a fuckin' tease."

I laugh and he laughs.

"I'm not teasing."

"Yeah you are."

I barely feel his finger on my neck as he sweeps it by.

"Teasing implies cruelty or criticism." His fingers trail along the back of my neck super lightly, "Or maybe an annoyance of some kind." Now his fingers are back on my neck and I'm seriously about to lose it right here in the middle of the office.

I look up at him and he smiles that smug smile and I can't fucking help it and my hand slides up the back of his thigh and over his ass, and I think how nice and firm and round it is, but he hides it under his baggy ass jeans and then it's back down again up the back of his thigh and then he does some shit I wasn't expecting. He takes one step with his right leg and my hand goes up and he moans and I'm out of my chair and he's sitting on my desk and I'm splitting his legs and our tongues are all hot and twisted.

I pull away but his big hands are on the back of my biceps but he's gentle when he pulls me back in and I turn my palm toward him and over the buttons of his 501's and he feels good and then my hand is up and over his smooth face and I put my cheek next to his and he whispers, "You feel good."

"So do you."

"I think we should have desert before dinner tonight."

He laughs and then I laugh and I kiss the inside of his neck just below his ear and step back and look at him. I think how beautiful he is and while I'm thinking that his thumb comes up and strokes my cheek and his eyes are smoky and blue and glazed over like he's ready right now.

"Vic." He says and I can barely hear him.

I step into him just a bit.

"I like being with you." He says and then he looks down and takes my fingers, "I like that I can be with you all of the time."

"I like it too."

"You feel so good." His voice gets a little deeper and his hands move to my waist and I think he's headed to my Sam Browne buckle but he just rubs my zipper with his upside down thumb.

"I don't want this to change."

"Neither do I."

His eyes are burning into mine.

"But it will."

"I know." I say

I look over for a moment and then back down at him his eyes never leaving me.

"When it does I'm going to try to remember this moment."

"It's perfect"

"I know" He says, "That's why I want to remember it."

I lean down and my lips land softly on his and I just hold them there cherishing the feel of him, the taste of him and accepting what he is giving me.

The telephone rings and it breaks the spell, "Absaroka Sheriff's Department." I answer.

"Hey Ferg, what's up?"

Walt folds his arms across his chest and looks up at me.

I turn and bend over taking down the information that Ferg is giving me and when I hang up I look at Walt but he doesn't say anything he just stands up and moves behind me and I can feel him pressing into me.

"Walt."

His arms circle my waist, his head rests on my shoulder, "Just let me hold you for a second."

My hands wrap around his forearms and we stand there and I don't want him to let me go. For the first time in nearly four years I hear the fan overhead, the birds in the park, the kids laughing in the park, a car door slamming on the street, his breath as it eases out of his perfectly shaped Roman nose and I feel his heart beating against my back.

I love him.

"I'm going to smell like you." I say, "and that will be suspicious."

He whispers in my ear, "I like you smelling like me." He kisses my neck and nuzzles his nose in my ear.

"Walt, I can barely control myself as it is we really have to fucking stop."

"You're right."

He steps back, "You're on-call this weekend aren't you?"

"Yeah, it's my turn."

He smiles and it's a little wicked, "You think Ferg will switch with you?"

"Fat chance he has a date with Kristie."

Walt's eyebrows rise and they stay there, "I wanted you all to myself this weekend."

"You do have me all to yourself."

He smiles and its full and it stays there.

"Can I have a rain check?" I ask

"I intend on cashing it." He confirms

"You better." I lean up and kiss him quick

"Ferg is on his way back."

Just as I say that I hear the bottom door open. Walt walks over to the coffee pot, looking down to make sure he's not protruding in his jeans, and pours a cup of coffee. Ferg's light on his feet and barely makes any noise on the steps as he turns the corner.

"Hey, Ferg."

"Hey, you guys are not going to believe this."

"What?" I say

"Well, I was on my way back from the title company when Kristie calls me just after I hung up with you." He says all perky.

Walt is facing him with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Well, her uncle is a notary and she was talking to him about her Aunt Holly who is about to have surgery. She need some changes to her trust and her DNR but they need to be notarized which made Kristie think of the parcels and that you need a notary when you transfer title."

"Ferg, ah, can you get to the point here." Walt helps him along with is rotating hand but he's kinda sweet about it.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, anyway her Uncle Pete remembers notarizing some papers for Jacob Nighthorse about four years ago. When he was talking with Krisite he looked up his notary book and it was on 4/10/2011 where Four Arrows Investments bought Big Pines Timber."

Ferg flips his leather notebook closed and I look over at Walt. His lips are tight, his head nods just a bit and he turns without saying anything and goes into his office.

I look at Ferg and he shrugs his shoulders but he falls in behind me when I go into Walt's office. He's standing at the wall and writes _4 arrows_ on the paper with a red sharpie.

He circles it, "Jacob Nighthorse, Barlow Connally, and Cassandra Two Rivers. What is the connection?"

"Land" I say.

"It's the land, Sheriff." Ferg cosigns. "Four Arrows Investments owns the Casino so their interests make sense."

"Cassandra's map is what caused the delay on Barlow's construction site last year." I remind him.

Walt turns back toward the wall and circles Jacob's name and Barlow's name and draws a line connecting them. Then he writes _CASINO_ and circles it in the middle of the paper.

"Vic, get your laptop and your coat."

"Ok, why? Where we going?"

"Cheyenne. State library. Territory maps." He barks

I grab my gear and am a step behind him

"Get your battery charger I'm gonna need your phone." He orders

I run back to my desk and grab it and look at Ferg. I turn my thumb and pinky opposite each other and hold it to my face.

"I'll call you." I mouth to Ferg.

He nods and I catch up to Walt who is in his serious as fuck Sheriff mode.


	21. Chapter 21

He's in that place. That place where no one dares tread past the coiled snake.

He borrowed my phone about twenty-five miles ago, he and Henry have been in conversation but I only understand bits and pieces as he problem solves the past recalling events I've never heard of and doing a deep dive into their shared history.

At this moment, I feel so alone with him, and I realize what an oxymoron that is but my mind wonders around peeking through the small openings of my thoughts and feelings and questioning if this is how Martha felt? Was she this removed or was she present and engaged because she was there; she was a part of this history they are conferring about.

The glow of security has been blown off by the blowtorch of our shared reality the reality that I am in love with a man that is partially broken and truthfully so am I but I think it is too late to slow it down and while I'm here dealing with the truth – the truth is I don't want to slow it down. It feels too good to stop although I know the heat of this desire may incinerate me.

As the miles click by the scenery only changes slightly in varying hues of brown and green. I look over at his stoic profile feeling how much love I have for him but knowing that a wall exists between us and I have no idea how to tear mine down let alone begin a conversation about his.

Walt hangs up the phone and holds it extending his hand toward me, "Hold this for a sec."

I take my phone and watch as he pulls his wallet out of his rear pocket and flips it open revealing the old faded plastic sleeve of photographs pressed in so long that if you remove the picture it would peel apart the carefully protected picture. It dates him. It is one small part that comprises his complexities and in the end makes me wonder if I am in anyone's wallet? Am I worth holding onto for so long that I become a part of the frame?

I blink back toward the moving landscape realizing that I want to belong and not just anywhere with anyone but here with him. It will cost me, but what I don't know is, how much I am willing to pay?

Walt pulls out a business card with jagged edges and slides his wallet back in his pocket and holds his hand out silently asking for the phone.

"I can dial the number while you drive." I say as an olive branch.

He doesn't say anything but looks at me as he hands me the card the corners of his mouth rise half-way up for only a moment and I begin to punch the numbers in the phone.

His big hand stops me and he takes the phone and places it in the cup holder between our seats then he holds my hand in his. He doesn't say anything at all he just rests his hand on my thigh and presses his fingers between mine. In this moment, I think he gets it. He feels so good.

The minutes pass and without exchanging a word I release my fingers and dial the number, press send, and hand him the phone.

"Yes, Agent Townsend please, this is Sheriff Walt Longmire of Absaroka County." He waits a beat.

"Yes, I'll hold."

"Agent Townsend….Walt Longmire." His voice is exceptionally deep and I'm pretty sure he is doing it on purpose and I'm also pretty sure it's working.

Walt runs down what we have so far and he follows with short one-word responses. He hangs up and hands me the phone again and holds his index finger under his jaw like it's a ledge.

"We are going to meet Townsend at the FBI building." He looks over at me, "You going to be ok with that?"

I roll my eyes like I do, "Doesn't look like I have choice." I say halfway pissed at both Walt and Townsend; Walt for going up on that damn mountain and Townsend for being a dickhead.

"You have a choice." He says without a hint of sarcasm.

"What, wait in the truck like a good little girl. Fuck that shit."

He looks over, "Just don't deck him, ok."

"Yeah, well, I won't make any promises and you know you're the last one to talk about hitting someone."

"Vic, I really do feel bad about that."

"I know you do. He's just a dick."

He smiles and then all smug says, "It's nice knowing you want me around."

"Yeah, well, I don't appreciate you going off all half-cocked but it was worth it."

He smiles, "Half-cocked, huh?"

His hand is back resting on my thigh and I trace his knuckles without really thinking about it.

"That's the only time I expect that – just so you know."

I smile at him; he squeezes my thigh, and looks back out at the road, the smile broadening on his granite features.

"Agent Townsend thanks for taking the time to see us." Walt gives him that campaign smile and I think I would vote for him. Hell, I would work his campaign for him just to get next to that smile.

"You're welcome, Sheriff."

He has that same aloofness that earned him a sock in the jaw as he turns towards me, "Deputy."

"Agent."

My tone just a shade under instigating and I dial it back in just for the moment.

"I made some inquiries while I was waiting for you two to arrive. If you wouldn't mind following me to the conference room where we can sit down and speak comfortably. There are also a couple of analysts that will meet us."

He checks is Tag Hauer, "In about 15 minutes. I'm sure they will be interested in what you have to say."

I make eye contact with Walt because I am instantly suspicious of this jerk being so professional and accommodating because it can only mean one of two things; one, he is playing us or two, we have stumbled onto something big – big enough for the resources of the FBI.

Townsend steps through the glass threshold. Walt holds the door open for me to step through, his hand on my lower back, just as it has been for the past year and I walk through with my game face on.

There are six of them all MIB'd out and I prevent the eye roll I feel coming on.

Townsend offers his open palm to the six-seated agents, "Sheriff Walt Longmire and Deputy Victoria Moretti from Absaroka County, Wyoming."

The oldest pallbearer stands and then they all follow suit as we shake hands and play nice. He has sharp features, a shocking grey crew cut, with an iron jaw.

I look at Walt and his eyes meet mine confirming what I suspect. This is big and the trouble with big is that we aren't going to be able to manage it and risk being neutralized.

I follow his lead and we take our places at the conference table. Walt doesn't say anything just sorta nods letting me know that he knows what is going on.

"Sheriff, I want to thank you for reaching out to me directly and hope that we can let bygones be bygones." Townsend offers and his features soften.

"Sure." Is all he gets in return for his efforts.

"Deputy Moretti, I know we have had our differences but as you will see we need to be on the same team."

"No problem." I say trying to take a page out of the Walt Longmire playbook.

"I will just lay my cards on the table." Townsend literally places his palms face down on the table with his fingers spread out.

Townsend points around the room, "We have long suspected that the Four Arrows Investment Group has been using illegal sources of income, seven figure income, to build the Casino property in your county however we have never been able rise above the level of suspicion."

He looks around to the other agents, "We think that with what you have told me so far and what we have we may be able to actually build a sustainable case."

"What makes you think the money is from illegal sources?"

"As you know, Sheriff, building a gaming establishment on Indian Territory is a somewhat different process and there are Federal oversight guidelines. The financial analyst assigned to the initial application process noticed some discrepancies in various financial documents but it wasn't enough to stop or deny the project however it gained the attention of the Bureau."

"You think the parcels play a role in all of this?" Walt asks and looks around the room for confirmation and that's when the senior agent pipes up, "Yes, Sheriff. We do and we think you are in the ideal position to help us make a case and make it stick. A case that will send Jacob Nighthorse to prison for the rest of his life."

I look over at Walt and watch his jaw clinch as he leans forward on the table interlacing his fingers and his eyes are narrow as he says, "What you are proposing will have generational effects on those in my stead so with all due respect I won't be your pawn."

His head turns back toward Townsend, "Why the sudden respect? You didn't express that the last time you were in my county."

I sit up because Walt has my fucking attention.

He unlaces his fingers, keeps his palms on the table, and points his erect index finger toward me, "You were particularly contrary to my deputy from what I understand. Why should I believe any of that has changed?"

Townsend's face reddens at Walt's subtle shot over the bow but he clears his throat, straightens his tie, "I can assure you both that I ….listen Sheriff…even you must admit that having the top law enforcement official in the county going off into the middle of a blizzard without resources is not in line with…"

The grey haired eagle at the head of the table speaks up, "Listen, Townsend cut the bullshit." He barks and stands up moving around the table.

He walks over to Walt and puts his hand out, "Walt." He shakes his hand, "Steve Pryor."

Pryor sits on the table one leg on the floor and one leg dangling. He throws his thumb back pointing into his chest, "We have to put up with his shit all of the time but the truth is Walt he's a great fucking agent."

I've decided I like this guy.

"The bottom line is that you are a legend, sir. Here and elsewhere. I'm the guy and since I'm the guy I can give you my word that you will be an equal partner in this investigation. You will not be marginalized."

Walt shakes his head and I can tell he is processing all of this.

Pryor gets up and walks over, standing on my opposite shoulder, "May I please have the pleasure of taking you to lunch Deputy Moretti? It's the least I can do for the woman that knocked the shit out of Townsend, here." He smiles and his grin is devilish.

I smile because I can't help it. It is so wonderful watching him get his comeuppance. I almost feel sorry for the guy but not really.

Walt cants his head down and looks past his shoulder toward me at Pryor's offer.

I throw my thumb out towards Walt, "He's with me."

Pryor stands up, puts his hands in his front pockets and says, "Ah hell, let's go get something good to eat and talk this thing out."

As if he can sense Walt's suspicions, "Just the four of us. I gotta bring him along. Like I said, he's a great fucking agent."

Walt gives Pryor his one snort chuckle and he stands up.

"Ok?" He looks at me.

"Ok." I say and it is because the players just got played.


	22. Chapter 22

Pryor slides prescription classic Ray Bans over his at least once broken nose. "I know this is still Wyoming but you two feel like steak or would you prefer something healthier?

''Steak is fine." Walt says and we follow Pryor and Townsend down the block to a crowded and softly lit steakhouse.

Pryor walks ahead, shakes hands with the maître D' and we are escorted past the crowd to a table in the back. Pryor is on the heels of the maître D' when we reach the table, Pryor holds out a chair, and motions with his open palm for me to be seated. I glance at Walt but his eyes are locked on him. I have less than a second to figure out my options, remembering our end goal, I sit down.

"Deputy Moretti." He says and he smiles.

"Thank you." I say while looking at Walt who takes the seat next to me and Pryor moves around to sit across from me.

"Have what you like courtesy of the FBI." Pryor says, with his hands clasped on the table, ignoring the menu.

"That's really not necessary." Walt chimes in and I've been down this road before.

"Listen, Walt." He smiles, and it appears genuine, "I made my bones on the street and I came to the FBI when I was 40 years old, which seems like yesterday, but it wasn't. Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you in no uncertain terms is that I get it. I may have never been a Sheriff is a rural Wyoming community but I sure as hell was a real cop for a long time and I also get that we would still be sitting in the office with our dicks in our hands if you hadn't dropped a dime to Townsend, here." He looks over at Townsend and back at Walt and glances his intense honey colored eyes at me and it clicks what he just said. His face flushes, "Ah, I apologize for my language."

"Not a problem." I say and chuckle because he clearly doesn't know me.

Pryor leans back for a second and then moves back forward.

"Walt, you have every reason to be suspicious. Hell, I would be too given your history with us but I hope you overcome that and see that we are taking you and this seriously."

Walt's eyes match in intensity, "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I believe that innocent people are being stripped of the God given right to prosper and that Jacob Nighthorse is nothing short of a modern day Svengali."

"If that's the case how come I never heard of you or the FBI being interested in pursuing him?"

"We wouldn't be very effective if we broadcast our intentions now would we Walt?"

Walt is silent. It's a poker game, it's a chess game, and it's fucked up because there is so much at stake here.

Pryor eyes Walt deciding if he can out silence him and I almost want to tell him not to even try but in a very selfish way and a surprising way it turns me on to watch Walt do his Walt thing. Freeze out those he wants to freeze out. Out Alpha the Alpha without raising his voice, or losing his temper, he is cold and it's deadly effective.

Finally, Pryor offers, "We know we don't have enough for an indictment let alone a parallel investigation, Walt." He sips the ice water from the large crystal tumbler, "Like I said, we would still have our dicks in our hand and we wouldn't be sitting here about to have one of the finest steaks in the state of Wyoming."

Pryor's eyes snap toward me like he just realized I was still sitting at the table but this time instead of apologizing he blushes and turns his face back toward the crowd as he regroups.

Walt glances over at me and I can't be sure because it is insanely dark but I swear he winks at me.

"You're proposing a joint investigation?" Walt asks

"If you're open to it, yes." He says

"Open book?"

"Completely, open." Pryor pauses then adds, "Both ways, though."

"Of course."

"Ok." Pryor nods and sticks out his right hand.

"Ok." Walt replies his voice very deep and very clear as they shake hands.

Townsend makes an audible sigh at which I cut my eyes because I can't help it and because he deserves it.


	23. Chapter 23

"Do you feel comfortable with the deal we just made?"

"Yup." He says scratching his whiskered jaw.

I pull the lose strands of my hair back, redo my ponytail, and check my teeth in the flip down mirror in the sun visor.

"You don't?" He asks looking at me out of the corner of his dark eyes.

"I don't know, Walt. I hate those FBI fucks." I say as I slide Carmex jasmine green on my lips.

"They have the resources we don't."

"You're right about that. We got the maps we needed and we got them on electronic files, too."

"Having a joint investigation without having to involve the BIA, for now, is good for us. We can get more done in a shorter period of time."

"I'm not all that happy about them putting an agent with us."

"He will be hiding in plain sight."

"Are you going to make him work as a deputy like the rest of us or just do the investigation?"

"Work." He pauses, "Pryor said he would get him down here within the week. "We could use the help."

"You're right."

He smiles for no apparent reason. His eyes focused out of the front windshield. The smile stays for longer than I would expect for such randomness and I almost don't want to ask for fear of breaking his spell.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Just thinking about you."

"Me?" Surprised at the answer

"Yeah, for a minute back there I thought you were going to deck Townsend again."

"Ugh." I roll my eyes. "He's suck a prick."

"You're overprotective."

"Ha, now that's saying something coming from you."

"What do you mean." His voice is light, lighter than I've ever heard it and it dawns upon me that he's teasing and something I wasn't expecting.

"Walt, seriously." I say teasing back.

"Seriously." He looks over and his eyes are so bright, so clear and his face so relaxed. I want to kiss him.

"If looks could kill Pryor would have been dead three times already."

He puts his hand to his chest as if he's innocent and I laugh then count off with my fingers.

"First, when he asked me to lunch. Two, when he pulled back the chair for me and three when he said dick not once but twice and blushed both times."

Walt smiles and now I really want to kiss him.

"You were ready to punch him out. Admit it."

"I'm not a violent man." He chuckles

I reach over and hook my finger into the web of his right hand and he squeezes and moves it off of the steering wheel and pulls my hand into his lap. We hold hands just like that and it's nice. Nicer than I ever imagined his big hand could be or feel.

"Just for the record, I wasn't jealous, I think Pryor is a pretty decent guy and if he knew we were together he wouldn't think of flirting with you."

"Ah huh."

"I'm serious." He looks over at me for a moment.

"Are you a jealous man?" I ask, my tone indicating my seriousness.

"No."

"Never."

"If I can't trust you I can't be with you."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"I trust you."

"I know"

"I won't take advantage of it, Walt."

He looks over again and back toward the road.

"I know"

"You don't unless I tell you."

"What else do you need to tell me?"

"This scares me."

"What scares you?"

"This"

"Us, you mean?"

"Yeah, us."

"Me, too."

"It does?" I ask

"Of course." He says

We are silent for a few miles, our hands still folded into each other in his lap.

"It doesn't mean I don't love you." I say

"I know." He says

The silence stretches out.

"But it does mean that I do."

"What?"

"It means that I do … love you..I mean."

I look at his chiseled profile taking in the sight of him.

He glances over and gives me a half smile, squeezes my hand just a tad, "I'm scared out my mind, Vic, and I'm still here. That's what I mean."

"I know."

His eyes are back on the road as we pass the Absaroka County sign.


	24. Chapter 24

"Well, there's one good thing about having the weight of the Federal government in the mix."

"What's that?" He says

"I've already got a couple of emails from the financial crimes investigator they assigned to work with me in analyzing the documents and he's already started writing the affidavit for the search warrant."

I look up from my computer, the light illuminating the office, and I realize just how late it really is and it's just us and the street is quiet; the office is quiet, except for the methodical tick tock of the not so grand grandfather clock in the hallway.

"Hey, Vic." He says like he just discovered my name written in an ancient scroll and he is saying it for the first time the singe syllable rolling off of his full lips.

I look up at him and I think how beautiful he is and I know men aren't supposed to be beautiful but he is and I think how I need to burn his image in my head right now because it's going to change, we're going to change, whether I want it to or not.

"Maybe we should leave this until morning?" His voice is soft almost suggestive.

He's standing next to me now, his hand is gentle on my neck, it's light and reassuring.

I close my email, power down the laptop, and stand but he doesn't move and I turn into him and hold him as his arms fall around me. That's it, I think; it's really just this simple.

"Are you worried about what we may find?" My words muffle in his chest

"Yup."

"Will it change us?"

"I don't want it to."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know." He says and I feel the stubble rub against my ear.

* * *

"What time is the FBI guy supposed to be here?" Ferg asks

"Anytime now I guess. They just said today not what time."

"What's his name?"

I check my email, look up at Ferg, "Let's see his name is Pat Hayden."

Walt walks by heading to the coffee pot, "Pat Haden?"

"Yeah you know him?"

"Not personally, he's ahead of my time, but you know he's pretty much a legend."

"A legend?" Ferg asks

"Yup."

I shake my head, "Wait, Walt, why would the FBI send someone like that here?"

"What?"

"Pat Hayden."

"He's coming here?"

"Yeah, that's what the email says."

He walks over and reads the screen and the boyish grin that is so rare but that I'm so fond off parts his lips.

He moves his coffee cup toward the screen, "I was talking about a different Pat Haden."

I stand waiting for him to elaborate but clearly this is a poor strategy.

"You want to explain to the rest of us what the hell you're talking about?"

Ruby chimes in, "You guys are so out of touch. Pay Haden, starting quarterback for the USC Trojans from '72-'75 played in 3 Rose Bowls and won 2 national championships."

She walks over and pours herself a cup of coffee, "How can you reasonably expect to work in this office and not have a cursory knowledge of football let alone USC football."

She looks at Walt and she smiles and he smiles and I think I want to throw up.

"Ok, you two, break up the love fest." I order as Ferg and I shake our heads.

I look over at Walt's lean frame and he winks at me and I smile back because at this moment I am happy and the angst that burdens me is noticeably absent.

The bottom door slams shut and the distinct sound of high heels penetrates the wooden staircase. She's six feet if she's an inch, short blonde hair that looks natural, four inch Italian heels and a custom grey suit with a silk blend lavender blouse. She clearly doesn't mind being an amazon in fact she owns it.

"Agent Hayden?" Walt says as he closes the distance.

She smiles, and I'm pretty sure she models in her spare time; perfect teeth, perfect make up, designer messenger bag, this has to be a cruel joke.

She extends her long thin fingers with perfect French tips, "Hi, not related to The Pat Haden." She laughs.

"Sheriff Longmire, I presume." She says

Walt shakes her hand and he puts on his campaign smile and it's bright and it's welcoming and I want to deck her.

"I bet you get that all the time." He says and he's still smiling.

"Yes, I do but it could be worse. I'm with a Y though."

Walt reverts to his naïve country boy routine and I can feel my face tighten, my heart is beating just a little bit faster and I am convincing myself to be rational.

"Welcome, let me introduce you to everyone." His deep voice clear and commanding.

He makes the rounds and clearly she is impeccable and perfect and now she is here.

Walt turns toward his office, his arm extended, "You can …ah..you can set up in here if you like."

She follows him into the office and a few minutes later he's yelling my name, "Vic."

I try to be cool as I lean in his doorway, "What's up?"

"Would you get Agent Hayden a uniform."

"Got it."

"Oh and Vic…ah..Pat here will be riding with you while we work the case."

"Got it."

I try my best casual, not threatened, and in control look and ask, "So, what are you about an eleven?"

"More like a seven." She says and she's nice when she says it.

"Did you pack any jeans?"

"Just a pair."

"Ok, let's make this easy." I say because after all I am a professional.

"Let's go get you some jeans, socks, and boots. You're going to have to get the smallest uniform shirt we have and get it altered but they can do that down at the local cleaners. Oh, and you are going to need some thermals to go under the uniform.

She puts her hand on my forearm for a brief moment, "Thanks, Vic. I really appreciate your help."

Walt stands and leans in the doorway of his office sipping his coffee.

"We'll be back." I say and I think he better be looking at my ass and not hers.

He raises his cup, "Ok."

I turn over my shoulder, "Ruby, call me on my cell if you need me we are headed down to Smiths'."

"Ok." She calls out and I catch Ferg smiling as we walk out.

She follows me to my truck and I suddenly realize just how fucking tall she really is and I'm trying hard not to hate her.

She settles into the passenger seat, "Vic, did you grow up here?"

Her clothes are perfectly pressed.

"Hell no. I'm from Philadelphia by way of Philadelphia P.D."

"You're kidding. I love Philadelphia. I worked five years in the field office there."

"What just out of high school?" I say and it's a bit sarcastic but fuck it she is gorgeous and I'm jealous and I hate that I am so I throw a shot at her.

"Gosh no, I've been an agent for almost 15 years and I was on the job in New York for nearly eight years before that."

"What, you're like, what 45 years old?"

"47 this December."

"Get the fuck outta here." I want it to be a bad thing but I don't think it is and that suddenly makes me feel worse.

"I wish but this is where the boss wants me."

"Fuck."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, say it."

"You're just not what we….I mean…what I expected that's all."

"Neither are you."

"What?" I look over at her as I pull up to Smiths and straight into an open parking space in front.

"I don't know…..I never expected a Philly cop in the middle of BFE but I also pictured the deputy who slugged Townsend to be different."

I laugh because it's true and it's funny and she laughs because I do.

"You piss in Pryor's Cheerios or something?"

"No, why."

"I mean he sent you here."

"Oh, that. Well, it was either me or Townsend and while I would prefer to hear the stories that would come out of that the boss is deadly serious about this case so you get me."

"He said Townsend is a good agent."

"He is"

"And you?"

"And me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

She gets outfitted in record time, to my surprise, and we drop off her uniform shirt at the cleaners and as a favor they put a rush on it.

Pat taps her iPhone6 deftly and says, "I was hoping you could drop me by 13276 Suffolk St. I'm supposed to meet the property manager in half an hour."

"You're renting a house?"

"Well, the bureau is but it's in my name to keep it all in guise you know."

"No problem. It's not far from the station."

"That's good." She flips the sun visor down and checks her lipstick and hair in the mirror. Still perfect.

Her long legs glide out of the truck as she tucks her hair behind her ear greeting the property manager. Clearly independent, clearly smart, and clearly we will either be the best of friends or the worst of enemies.

Pat asks me to do the walk-through with her and she is convincing as the newly hired Deputy for the Absaroka Sheriff's Department.

I drop her off at the station where she gets into her cold plated SUV where we exchange numbers.

"Tomorrow at 0800. Will that work for you?"

"Sounds great, Vic."

"Hey you wanna meet for dinner? I mean being new to a town especially a small ass town can be tough. I know."

"I think I'm going to just order a pizza and take a hot bath and get organized for our research on this case."

I smile, "Good luck with the pizza and see you in the morning. Call if you need anything."

"Thanks."

* * *

"I dropped super model off at her SUV after she signed lease papers for that rental on Suffolk."

Walt looks up from his desk and I can tell he's trying to act distant and disinterested but I know he's not.

"Ok."

"Bridgette Nielsen will be back tomorrow at 0800."

"The dated reference is for my benefit I take it."

"Something like that." I sit down, uninvited but I don't care.

"More like Amber Heard."

"Get the fuck outta here! What do you know about Amber Heard?"

He smirks and picks up the papers on his desk. I'm deciding how far I want to take it but at this moment I think I should just leave so I stand without saying a word and before I take the five steps necessary to reach the door he's practically my shadow.

"Close the door." He says it soft almost a whisper and I close it noticing neither Ferg nor Ruby are paying any attention to the personal crisis I'm having.

I don't have a chance to turn around as he pins me to the closed door, pressing his body against my back, his lips next to my ear, one hand on my hip the other above my head palm down on the wood paneling.

"Don't go spinning tales in your head, Vic." He kisses the top of my ear.

"She's fucking beautiful." I say and I hear the sadness in my voice.

He kisses the skin just above my collar

"And she's fucking smart." I whisper as he flicks his tongue on the back of my neck, which elicits a non-consensual low moan from my lips.

"I only want you." He says and I believe him and I feel him pressed against me.

"You want me now."

"I always want you."

He takes a step back and I turn around and neither of us touches the other because we are at work and this is entirely inappropriate not to mention completely unprofessional.

"I'm sorry." I offer because now I'm ashamed that I am jealous

"I don't want you to be." He says and his eyes are full and intense.

"What"

"Sorry"

"No"

"No"

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" He asks and he's a bit shy.

"Is this your attempt to make me feel secure."

"No, that's later."

"So, your asking me for more than dinner."

"Yes."

"Ok"

"And the night after and the night after next, too."

"Walt"

"Vic"

I smile and he smiles back and he tucks his hands in his front pockets and I look because I can't help it because I know what's there.

He moves and touches my hand with his finger.

"You can look."

I feel my face burn but his face matches mine and he says, "I like it when you look."

"You do?"

"Yeah." His voice goes all soft, "Makes me feel wanted."

"You are"

"That's good." He says quietly and I step up and kiss his cheek and as I step away he says, "You are too."

"What"

"Wanted"


	25. Chapter 25

Super sexy stands at the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department modern case tracking board – a large sheet of crate paper hanging on the wall in Walt's office.

I don't know whether I should be proud or embarrassed but it is what it is and we roll with it.

"Twenty-three parcels belonging to Connally Construction, Four Arrows Investments and two local residents but one is dead, killed by her brother, and the brother is in prison. Have I got that right?"

"Yup"

"Walt is going to drive up and interview Aaron, I'm waiting to hear back about the warrant, and Ferg here has been imputing all of the title information as we receive it."

She looks over at The Ferg and smiles and then back at me, "Ok, I need to know about the players."

She spreads her standing long legs into a perfect V, which are now, covered in 501's, her arms are folded across her chest. Her ropers are new along with the thermal shirt covered with a faded orange Levi shirt with only two buttons snapped. She holds her power position well. The tan leather holster holding her Beretta 92FS looks new and it dawns upon me that the FBI wears black but Sheriff's Departments are tan which tells me she has an attention to detail.

Super sexy, that's what I call her, looks down at the folder she's holding in her ridiculously manicured hand and says, "We have Jacob Nighthorse and Barlow Connally. What's the story with these two?"

"You mean how are they connected?" I ask

"That and what about them, makes them, suspect?" Her game face actually makes her look more beautiful.

Walt scratches his beard and steps beside her facing the wall and he points up at the paper, his other hand on his hip, "I don't know that they are connected, per se, except that they are both involved in the building of the casino."

"You never see them socially?"

"Me, no, but then again I don't run in their social circle."

"How many circles can there be, Sheriff?"

"I know it's a small town but there are differences."

Ferg stands next to me and we watch, and listen, like two kids in the back seat listening to the adults talk but because Walt is the second part of a two-part conversation there's not much being said.

"We don't have a direct connection, yet." I offer, stepping up to Walt's other side, "But that doesn't mean there isn't one other than the obvious."

"Maybe we should look at the obvious." Walt says, looking at me, his eyes in that far off place.

"Yeah, maybe it's so obvious we can't see it, Walt." Ferg says from the metaphoric backseat.

"Ferg, go over your spreadsheet again. Vic, check your email, and see where we are with the warrants." Walt is in his kick ass Sheriff mode and I want to touch him but I can't so I head back toward my desk and I hear his boots stepping behind me.

He stops at my desk and he says, "Vic, I ah forgot to tell you that I'm having lunch with Cady today."

My stomach drops and the familiar flood of insecurity washes over my pores.

"ok" I say

"Vic." He says and he looks up like he just now realizes that this isn't the time and this definitely isn't the place to talk about this when Ferg interrupts him.

"Hey, Sheriff, I'm going by my Dad's and see if he can help me out with any contract records he may have. I was thinking that maybe he may have been sub-contracted for some roofing work that I may not be aware of. You know, maybe I can find a connection somehow that I just can't see looking at the records."

"Ok, Ferg. Great idea." He offers a closed lip half-turned smile and pats his head like he does and turns back toward me a little flustered and now I think the end is here but he doesn't know how to do it.

"Will I see you later?" I can barely hear him but his eyes are on fire.

"Will, you?" I say meeting his intensity.

"Yup." He says all soft and he looks back into his office and then over towards Ruby like he doesn't want to be caught and says, "Stay with me tonight?"

"Can we talk about this later?" I ask pulling my hair back behind my ear.

"Won't have time later." He looks out the window past me

"Talk to me after your lunch."

"Lunch won't change anything."

"That's what you think."

"That's what I know."

He steps back into his office and I listen to the chatter drown out into white noise as I go line by line over the records. Occasionally looking up at Branch's empty desk and thinking how much I miss him.

I check my email and open the Skype invitation to my counterpart, Agent Jones, in Cheyenne. Turns out the warrants have been issued and they are going through everything electronically. Gone are the dramatic days of seizing the bank records in person. Jones sends me the secure link through the FBI server and I get to work.

Walt ambles out of his office with his hat and coat on his way to lunch with Cady but I don't say anything as he walks by instead I just look up and give a closed lip half smile which he returns.

Super sexy isn't far behind but she stops and pauses and asks Ruby if it's ok if she gets some coffee.

"Pat, you just make yourself at home while you're here." Ruby says as only she can.

She pours her cup and turns, "Did Jones get a hold of you yet?"

"Ah yeah" I say "I'm going through my portion of the records now."

"Hey, I don't want to break your concentration or anything but maybe we could get some lunch?"

"Hmm sure." I reply trying to remember that I am the wanted woman and that I need to act like it.

"Anything but pizza. It sucked and I swear the guy that delivered it was high."

I smile out of the window but don't say anything and look up and back over to her. Standing, "Ruby, did Walt say where he was going?"

"He's meeting Cady for lunch over at the Busy Bee."

"Thanks."

"Let's go. I'll introduce you to Henry Standing Bear."

"What a name. When I read it in the case file I couldn't wait to meet him"

"You read it in the case file?"

"Yeah" She says casually trying to deflect my question.

"What file?"

"Vic, what all did Pryor tell you? We've been trying to link Nighthorse to interstate fraud for a long time and we think you guys have the missing pieces of the puzzle."

"Yeah, but how did Henry's name turn up in your case file."

"Henry was arrested for murdering Miller Beck."

"And."

"And he was released when the Denver District Attorney's office dropped the charges after linking David Ridges to Beck's murder."

"But you still didn't answer my question."

"Four Arrows has to file taxes and they pay social security tax and one of the employees on their payroll tax is or was David Ridges."

"When did you guys figure this out?"

"Unfortunately, it was after your boss killed him."

"What you're saying is that you guys have been in the shadows this whole fucking time."

She dons her power pose again but this time it mirrors mine.

"We were making a case just like you are."

"No, the difference is we went to you when we thought you needed to be brought in on it."

"No, the difference is you needed our resources."

"Oh, so you're saying you don't need us."

"That's not what I'm saying." She stops, puts her hand out like she is recalling notes from a lecture on how to deal with hostile suspects and she slows down, "Vic, we are on the same team."

"Some team. I think you guys are using us or more specifically you're using Walt to get what you want."

"If that were the case we would have taken over the investigation."

"You can't take over just yet because you don't know the players here...as you put it...and right now you need us more than we need you and you know what else this is bullshit."

"Maybe you should talk to my boss."

"Maybe he should talk to mine." I shake my head. "I thought Pryor was a stand-up guy."

"He is, Vic. He is."

"Listen, if you care anything at all about the Sheriff, and it's pretty obvious that you do, you need to trust me and you need to trust Steve." Her eyes are hyper focused, her lips are thin with intensity.

"Excuse me." I can feel the eye roll start before I can stop it.

"Let's cut to the chase Deputy Moretti." She spreads her fingers wide like she's cleaning the table and she leans on my desk with her French tips pressed into the stained pine, "You don't have to be a detective of my caliber to see the heat bouncing off of you two and frankly I don't give a shit the only thing I care about is wrapping up this case, getting the bad guys, and getting back to civilization. Now, that we are this close, I'm not going to let your fragile ego get in the way. So, why don't you take a minute and think about it and figure out how you want to play this."

"I don't need a minute Super Trooper."

I close the little distance there is between us and I look up into her green eyes, "That man in there." I point to Walt's office, "Has been through fucking hell and he is willing to go back to find out who killed his wife and who is behind it and the rest of us in this office will go with him and what that means to you is that you can't come in here and fuck with him, or his mind, to get what you want, Nighthorse be damned."

She looks at me sizing me up.

"Now, you take that minute, and you think about it." I say, my arms folded and my head cocked.

Super sexy glances at Walt's office and then notices Ruby who is standing at her desk with the phone in her hand.

Her lips twist and she replies, "Ok, Moretti, we will play it your way now take me to meet this Standing Bear."


	26. Chapter 26

"So this is the new temporary Deputy." Henry says with a smile.

"Henry, meet Pat Hayden" I say putting my sunglasses in my shirt.

"Pat Haden?"

"With a 'Y'."

"Welcome to the Red Pony." I see why the women swoon over Henry he is smooth as a baby's bottom.

"I'm hungry and she was anxious to meet you."

He blesses her with his full smile which reveals his deep dimples, "I am happy to accommodate both of your requests." He looks at me, "Would you care to see a menu?"

I give Henry a half eye roll, "Turkey sandwich no mayo and fruit instead of fries."

He looks at Pat and she says, "The same for me. Thanks."

I head to the restroom and in the solitude, looking at myself in the mirror, it hits me how much I have become a part of this place, this town, this community. It's hard to imagine my life in Philly even though I think about going back. I think about it often and despite my self-assurances and Walt's I feel torn between both worlds feeling like I don't belong in either.

Before I open the door, I slide my phone out of my pocket and I fumble with the buttons. It's a whim, something out of the ordinary, in small moments like this I step deep within myself and I trust it. I want to do the things I've never done like leave a sweet message for the man I will see later, the man I love. I dial the number, hold my breath waiting to hear the voice that has a grip on everything I hold dear, but instead it's just dead air, and a loud tone. In a bit of a panic I hang-up.

My heart is beating like a kid in the house of mirrors.

We are finishing lunch when Henry joins us and I enjoy watching as Super Sexy meets her match. Before I know it Henry has arranged a dinner date with Pat. It is like watching a magic show. When the fuck did he pull this rabbit out of his hat?

"Lets go Pat before you end up barefoot and pregnant. What the fuck Henry?

His shoulders rise and his hands go up in a playful questioning of what he did wrong. My eyes roll and I shake my head and lead Super Sexy out of the Red Pony while she still has her pants on.

When I pull up to the station, I look over at Pat and can't help but laugh.

"Hey, Pat, I know we just met and all." I pause for effect as I step around to meet her on the sidewalk in front of the station putting the blade of my hand to my eyes blocking the sun and looking up at her, "But if you do anything to harm that man I will fuck you up...all six fucking feet of you."

She smiles, "I hope we end up friends, Vic, because you are something else, girl."

"Hey as long as we understand each other."

"Yes, I think we do. Besides, it's just dinner."

We get to the door and she mentions casually, "Did you know that Jacob Nighthorse isn't Cheyenne and that he stands to lose millions if he doesn't partner with a non-Native investment firm?"

"We need to dig into the paperwork and find out who or what is his shill." She says.

"That is how we make the connection. That has to be it." I say.

"Exactly."

I run up the stairs but stop at the top, turning around, "And you learned this how?"

Just asked Henry a couple of key questions when you went to the restroom and it sort of worked itself out.

I look at her deciding and I decide to say nothing.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Why don't you trust us?" He asks

"I do"

"You don't act like it"

"It comes and goes."

"Like the Wyoming tide"

"The one that doesn't exist."

I smile into the soft tender part of his chest.

"Yeah, that one." I can hear the smile in his voice.

He pauses, scratches his forehead and runs his bent fingers through his hair then his arm goes limp and his hand falls to his chest while his fingers move up and down slowly stroking the hair on his chest. I close my eyes. I can faintly hear the sound of his fingers smoothing over the hair moving back and forth against his skin.

"I'm not looking to move on or to be with anyone else." He says

"I believe you."

"You say you believe me"

"I don't think you are looking for anyone else and I believe you when you say it but it doesn't stop me from worrying."

"I'm pretty sure that you are the most interesting woman in the state, Vic."

"So now you have to stay in a specific geographic radius." I deflect

"I want to trust us."

I put my arm around him, my skin nearly sizzles from the heat pulsing from him and he strokes my forearm like it's second nature.

"I want you to trust us. I want to trust us, Walt."

"Lunch went well." He says out of the blue.

"I wasn't going to ask." I admit and he continues.

"My daughter is just that Vic. She's my daughter. She doesn't call the shots for me."

"She's your daughter, Walt."

"I shouldn't have to choose. I won't choose."

"That's a bit of a double standard isn't it."

He looks at me and his blue eyes are a deep coal staring at me in the moonlight peering through his bedroom window.

"You lost it when she was seeing Branch."

"That was entirely different."

"Not really."

"You're not trying to take her job away, her livelihood away, and I didn't hide if from her I told her flat out."

"Maybe she doesn't see me as a threat for her work but I am a threat in taking your time away from her. That's serious, Walt."

"It's different."

"Doesn't mean it feels different."

He's quiet, more quiet than usual. Walt turns onto his side facing me, his arm comes up and slides up and down my bare arm. His fingers move slowly like he is taking in the feel of my skin for the first time.

"It may take Cady some time to get used to the idea but she will."

His eyes blink slowly, "It's you that has to get comfortable with the idea of us and if that's something you don't want…"

I cut him off, "I do want it. I've wanted you for longer than I should have but now that it's hear it gets overwhelming sometimes."

"Like all your feelings are hyper alert and supersensitive?"

"Something like that."

"I feel it too."

"You don't ever have any doubt?"

"About how I feel?" He stops and looks at me intently, "No, Vic, I don't have any doubt about how I feel."

"But you have doubt?"

"About if it will last, yes."

My eyes fall from his and I look down at his chest.

"So what do you want to do." He asks but it's slow like he's forcing himself to ask

"Take one day at a time." I say because it's honest.

"What do you want to do?" I ask and I look at him but his eyes are closed like he's searching for an answer.

He opens them and says, "Not talk about it anymore," and closes his eyes again.


	27. Chapter 27

"I tried calling you yesterday"

He looks over his shoulder, pouring his coffee.

"It just beeped."

He raises the spoon delicately balanced in his hand, "Ah I couldn't quite figure out what to say so I just left it there."

He hands me my cup, the perfect blend of cream and sugar, "When did you do it?" I ask.

"About a week ago." He sits down and takes a sip of coffee.

"Super sexy thinks Nighthorse has a shill and that's how we have to make the connection."

His eyes are focused and he's deep in thought like he's somewhere else remembering something else.

"You think Barlow could be that shill?"

"He has the connections."

"That he does." He takes another sip and runs his finger down the side of his mug the way he does.

"It's because I don't think I deserve you."

"What?"

"I won't live up to her."

His finger stops moving and his eyes do too as they lock in. His lips flatten as he sits and it's quiet. The silence has returned and takes his seat at the table.

"Vic." He says his voice deep and rumbly.

I look down into my coffee cup and back up at him, "I think, sometimes, that I will have to sacrifice for my past sins. I don't think I've paid for all the pain I've caused or for my fucked up mistakes which have been pretty huge."

Taking a deep breath and really looking at him, "I'm afraid that I'll lose you." The breath has fully escaped my lungs, "It's probably one of the reasons I'm so insecure."

Silence overtakes us

I look over my shoulder toward the living room; glance at the desk and the piano and back at him.

"Walt." I swallow.

"I know I love you." I say as I look at him. "I know that I am in love with you."

His eyes don't waiver, "but I also know how much you were in love with Martha and if it hadn't been for Denver she would still be here and it makes me feel that I don't belong here. Like I'm cheating somehow."

There's a long angst filled pause and he says, "You're right that my marriage was good. It wasn't perfect. A perfect marriage doesn't exist."

"I can't measure up to her."

"I'm not trying to replace Martha with you Vic."

He sips his coffee and leans forward with his hands wrapped around the cup.

"Do you think I would have pursued you if I was still in love with her?" The lines in his forehead are flat, his eyes piercing, and he is deadly serious.

"I don't think I've thought about it like that."

"I wouldn't have."

"Is that why you pursued Lizzie?"

"More like the other way around." He sips his coffee. "But it was more like I wanted to feel alive again. He pauses, "and I did, Vic, even though I knew it was wrong to be with her but my desire to live was greater than my guilt but that changed when Cady got hurt. At least that's how I justified it in my head."

"What are you proving to yourself with me?"

His eyes are so dark they are almost void of any blue, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing short of having the courage to love you."

"Courage?"

"Courage."

"What are you trying to prove?" He asks turning the tables

"Maybe that I'm not as fucked up as I've always been."

Our eyes stay engaged, "That I can really love and be loved but the second part isn't so easy."

He offers, "I can do one day at a time as long as there's a tomorrow."

"Even if your daughter doesn't approve."

"That will take time." He sips his coffee, "Just like this will take time."

"So, you still think I'm worth it?"

"Yup." His finger strokes his mug, "You're not the only one in love."

That's all it takes, I'm up, he's up, his hands are on my face and he looks at me, almost through me, before his lips touch mine. I can feel all of the answers pour into me and it's heated, and feverish, and crazy. His clothes are off. My clothes are off. We don't make it past the rug that's between the kitchen and the living room and in Walt's way he places the pillow from the couch behind my head. I never saw him take it off the couch in the first place.

"You might hurt your head." Is all he says when he slides it behind me. I love him.

My mind is lost, my thoughts are just of him, of how much he loves me and what it means to be loved by him. His power is intoxicating and as he groans in my ear I admit for the first time that it's not just his personal power its the power he has and wields that is intoxicating and the fact that he picked me just as I picked him makes me cry.

He kisses my neck, as he falls deeper into me, his kisses feel like pedals of glory resting on the slickness between our cheeks.

I turn to kiss his ear, to whisper that I love him, and he moves his head up and over me, staring down. His eyes are full and his tears are real just like mine.

"I love you, Vic." He says all deep and full and rich.

"I love you, Walt." My voice is soft and sure.

We are going to be late to work this morning but our love, our love, is right on time.


	28. Chapter 28

"I Skype with Agent Jones today at 0930."

"You what?"

"Skype"

He looks at me with the blankness of a piece of paper.

"It's an electronics communications method by which we can speak to each other over a free internet audio link or video chat feature. The FBI uses Skype for business on a secure server."

Walt's face is still blank.

"He can't just call you on the telephone?"

"Yes, I suppose he could."

Pausing just long enough for the sarcasm to sink in he replies with a, "Hmmm" as if he is really thinking about this.

Opening the front door, his coffee thermos in one hand and his rifle in the other, I step under his arm with the natural ease of a woman familiar with the complex strength of her man.

He catches my arm as I pass on the other side of him stepping onto the porch.

"Hey."

He says as I stop and he's next to me, my shoulder pressing into this wide chest, kissing the top of my ear and holding me to him despite his full hands.

"Hey, yourself." I say.

"Get Jones to look and see if he can identify any financial transactions between Connally Construction and Four Arrows and/or Cassandra and Aaron Two Rivers. If there's something there." He trails off.

"Then there's something there." I say into his coat covered chest.

"Yup."

"Where are you going to be?"

"Have a couple of errands to run then I'll be back in the office."

"Errands?" I ask.

"Yup."

"You gonna tell me or do I have to interrogate you?"

"Which one will be more fun?" He smiles

I laugh and kiss him on the lips. He smiles into my kiss and says, all serious now, "Hey, Vic." He's all slow in his delivery like every single sound is important. "I love you."

Returning his intensity, "I love you, too." I kiss him again deciding not to ask why and instead I accept it.

He stands on the porch watching me walk to my truck and I call out without turning back, "You better be watching my ass."

I can hear the soft chuckle dissipate into the crisp morning air.

On the way to the station I call Ruby to make amends for being late and asking if she needs anything. Once there, I plop down Ferg's favorite breakfast sandwich.

"What's that for?"

"Trying to be a good partner."

"Thanks, Vic. I'm starving."

I get up and start a fresh pot of coffee and notice Ruby and Ferg exchange questioning glances.

"What can't I make a pot of coffee?"

"It's just, well, Vic it's just you know."

"Know what?"

"You're in a good mood this morning." His eyes light up like he's connected the dots and he smiles all wide and bright as he looks over at Ruby who gives me her omniscient look we have all grown accustomed to seeing.

I throw Ferg my most twisted face I can muster and pour my cup of coffee before its finished brewing.

Firing up my laptop I wait for Jones's Skype invitation, put my earbuds in my ear, and just as I click I hear Walt's heavy boots on the stairs and I swear I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Jones pops up and I tell him about our shill theory.

"I spoke with Pat last night." He says, his voice is nice, like a sportscaster and he's easy on the eyes in 1080p.

Walt walks by and I see him say good morning to Ferg and Ruby.

"Good, so she filled you in?"

"We started last night, Vic, and so far we have found several transactions from Connally Construction to Four Arrows and from Four Arrows to Cassandra Two Rivers."

Walt stands and pours a cup of coffee and really I should be ashamed but I'm not as I check out his ass. It's hard to see in his lose jeans but when he stretches his long leg out and rests on the other you can just make it out and since I know how nice it is now, how firm and tight, I can't help but look. I want to touch it.

"What about personal money transfers?"

Jones smiles like he's proud I made the connection not that he's surprised I made the connection. I want to tell him my secret, that I can have serious sexual fantasies and still keep up with this case but I decide it would be extremely inappropriate though maybe worth the laugh.

"Already on it."

"We have a $26,000 deposit into Two Rivers account two years ago and several smaller deposits between $14,000 and $2500.00 all from Jacob Nighthorse."

"Nighthorse?"

Just as the second syllable falls from my mouth Walt stands next to me. He's not in my personal space. He's professional and it's admirable but I almost lose my concentration this time."

"You think he was giving Cassandra the money to buy the parcels?"

"That is one theory we are exploring."

"The other blackmail?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"Ah, that's the million dollar question."

"Anything from Connally to Four Arrows?"

"Yes, we have a $50,000 transfer and a $100,000 transfer about 18 months apart."

"Those bastards." I say it too loud, "So, they did business together?"

I look up at Walt and he's stepped into my personal space and I can feel his eyes looking at me.

"Hey, Jones, hang on. I'm going to unplug so everyone else can listen in on this."

He nods and drinks from his Starbucks coffee cup. The name Jones written in black Sharpie sprawled on the cup.

Ferg joins Walt and I unplug my ear buds, turn up the volume, and we all listen as he recaps the information.

Walt puts his hand on his hip, his jaw juts out just a bit, his lips are pressed together and he is solemn and I know that he is connecting the dots just as I am just as I know this will end badly.

"Jones." His voice sounds like a mourning preacher at a graveside burial, "What were the dates on those transfers from Connally to Nighthorse?"

"Let's see the first was $50,000 in April of 2011."

Of all people Ruby says it out loud. "That's just before we lost Martha."

Walt looks down at the laptop screen and I watch as he does a slow motion swivel looking at Ruby.

Jones adds, "and the $100,000 was October of 2013."

He turns back at me and then he's gone

"Walter." Her voice is full of fright and concern.

Ferg taps my shoulder and nods towards Walt's office but I'm already making my excuses.

"Listen, Jones I will call you later."

"But." Is all he manages to get out before I click out, lower the top, and turn on my heels.

All three of us circle the wagon around him as he faces the crate paper on the wall of his office. His long fingers moving at a methodical pace, keeping track with his thoughts, he writes down the dates and connects the pictures with lines and arrows making the visual connection.

He writes DENVER on the paper, where it wasn't before, and draws a circle with the arrows pointing back to Nighthorse then to Connally Construction.

Walt's thick penmanship, all capitals like every cop in the universe, shows 100K?, with a circle and a question mark with the date 10/13.

He steps back, hands on both of his hips, the thick Sharpie in his right hand tucked behind his Colt.

He looks at me, the way he looked at me just before he disappeared into the winter storm at Ten Sleep hunting Wayne Durrell, like he wants to say something to me in this desperate situation but he can't bring himself to it. I thought I was going to lose him then and on instinct I reach out and touch his forearm.

"Walt."

Staring at him, I notice the absolute silence first, his eyes are in a faraway place now and I know he's with her. She will always have him.

"That was just before the election." I say, trying to bring him back to me.

He looks back at the paper then at me.

"Why would Barlow give Nighthorse that kind of money? It doesn't coincide with any of the parcel purchase dates." Ferg says looking down at his spreadsheet.

"I mean the dates aren't even close. I don't get it."

"Blackmail is one theory the FBI is working on." I offer.

"Blackmail?" Ruby says.

"But they are all connected in some way. Why would Barlow give money to Nighthorse and why would Nighthorse give money to Cassandra? What the fuck?"

"Maybe Cassandra was the shill for both of them?" Ferg says

"Then why have property in their names in the first place?" I ask.

"Maybe it's where the property is that matters?"

"You mean like maybe Cassandra knew something they didn't."

"Ferg, you don't honestly believe that she was a psychic do you?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know Vic. You were the one that found her records not me. There were lots of names there including Nighthorse if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, that's right." I snap my fingers.

At the sound of the snap I make the connection remembering the box and just as I turn toward Walt I see his face, now colorless, as he steps past me; grabs his hat and his coat.

"Walt." I say.

He keeps going.

"Walt." I yell.

He keeps going.

"What the fuck, Walt!" He stops at the door and looks back at me but he doesn't say anything and he doesn't need to. I know.

I meet him there, choosing to ignore that we are not alone; I reach up and touch his face and in the quiet moment, in this space. I know I have to let him go and I do and he leaves and as the door closes all I can stand and hope for is for him to return to me.


	29. Chapter 29

I work with Super Sexy for the rest of the day handling the few calls that come in that day in between Skyping sessions with Jones. Ferg and Ruby fall back into our normal fold which means we don't talk about it. We do that thing unique to the West. We move on.

As darkness falls across the plain I head home fighting the desire, the need really, to see him and touch him, to comfort him, and to love him.

Checking my cell phone for the millionth time there aren't any messages and no missed calls. He needs his space, I get that, he needs to do what he has to as he and only he can peel back the layers of this mystery.

For just a second, I think of heading to the Pony and as much as I can use Henry wisdom and his friendship I don't want Walt to think I was checking up or chasing him for that matter. That would be wrong. We are at the crossroads that I have known all along existed though I never would have imagined we would get there this way at this time.

The night rolls into day and we continue our routine of non-communication. Jones and Super Sexy do their FBI thing and Ferg and I process the data they send to us putting together the paper trail.

It's extensive but there are still pieces missing. The biggest piece is the motive. The why? So far, none of it is illegal and just all speculation. None of it ties back to Branch. There's nothing that proves murder, absolutely nothing.

"Is this all for nothing?" Ferg asks me and there's sadness in his voice I've never heard before.

"It's can't be, Ferg." I try to reassure him but I hear the sadness in my voice too.

Having reached my limit, a limit that is a thousand times greater than just three months ago, I walk over to Ruby and she looks at me. The softness of her blue eyes filled with so much concern. She takes my burden from me, "I haven't heard from him, but when he is ready we will know."

"Thank you, Ruby." That is all I can really say but it is a thank you for so much more.

"Vic," she reaches over and her hand brushes past mine, "No matter what, Walter will forge ahead. He will never give up and that makes him a hard man sometimes."

I shake my head in understanding, "I don't want to change him."

"But you may need to get in his way once in a while."

My head cants to the side as I try to process her words.

Ruby stands up, sits on her desk, and looks up at me, "A man that can bury the pain he did for so long has depths that we will never understand." She pauses as she chooses her words.

"Sometimes it will seem like there's no room for you, Vic."

I look at her and I don't know why I'm surprised when I knew that she knew but I am, "How did…"

"I'm not blind. I've known that man his entire life and I raised him from the time he was a baby Deputy. We may not be blood but he's mine."

Her hand is on my arm this time, "Just like he hid the pain of Martha's murder from all of us he has hidden the love he has for you but in both cases it seeps out of him when he's least expecting it and you only notice if you're paying attention."

"Loving him is hard, Ruby." The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. My candor surprises me and I begin to step away from her desk.

"Vic." She says softly with kindness.

"If he's worth having he's worth fighting for." She says it plain.

"I'm fighting a ghost, Ruby. A ghost." I say careful that our words stay just between us but imploring her understanding.

I look over and Ferg and Super Sexy are deeply engrossed in their conversation completely oblivious to one of the most important conversations of my life.

"She loved him." She looks at me unwaveringly, "She loved him her whole life and when he came back from college I don't think either one of them spent a day apart."

The lump in my throat is back and it's doing its job by keeping my mouth shut.

"I think he always felt guilty, he still feels guilty, about the sacrifices Martha and Cady made because he was a Deputy and then the Sheriff." She looks up at the ceiling like she's remembering the time past, clicking through her virtual calendar of events.

"When he was a young buck he didn't know the toll it would take and Lucian was, well Lucian, in his own way he tried to guide him and let him know but I saw the strain it had on him and on her but they never gave up on each other. When she died, you know before we knew how, I thought I would lose him forever."

I reached out and patted her shoulder the lump in my throat even greater.

"It's only after he told us about Denver that I really understood his grief and his pain about being just as committed to being the Sheriff as he was to her." She looks down at her hands resting in her lap then back up at me.

"Walt feels guilty about not being with her in Denver and working a case instead." I say.

My eyes search hers as if they need confirmation.

"If being the Sheriff had anything to do with her murder I don't know what he will do." She says it plain my worst fear now audibly floating in the air.

"He once told me that a man never should take more than one oath at a time." She looks at me, her piercing blue eyes radiating; "Now you both have to navigate the oaths you've taken and how you do that and come out on the other side I don't know."

"Maybe it's time for me to get in his way?"

"Maybe?"

I lean over and hug her and she hugs me back and it's a good hug about four years in the making.

"Vic," I hear Ferg's voice full of energy, "It turns out there was a wire transfer to Big Pines Timber in April of 2013 from Connally Construction. Big Pines Timber then makes a political contribution of $100,000 to the political action committee in support of Branch Connally for Sheriff just a week later."

"That's how Branch was able to afford all of those commercials." I say.

"I always thought Barlow just paid for them. It's no secret they are one of the wealthiest families in the state." Ferg says

"Branch and his dad never really saw eye to eye. You know that Ferg." I say as Super Sexy listens.

"Well, it's the first call he made when he was off the rails, I know that, too." Ferg says firmly and he's right.

At that, I turn and grab my jacket, and head for the door.

"Where are you going?" Ferg questions the exasperation evident.

"To see a man."


	30. Chapter 30

"Henry, we need to talk." I order him like I would a suspect not leaving any room for negotiation.

He looks at me above his reading glasses, stops writing in his ledger, and follows my frame as I walk past him and directly to his office.

"What is going on, Vic?" He asks behind me as he enters his office.

I can feel the energy pulsing through me as I try to be calm about the fact that Walt has gone off the grid.

"Henry, I need the truth no matter how bad you think it is."

"The truth about what?" His eyebrows furrow and he is asking legitimately.

"How much do you know?"

"Know about what?"

"About me and Walt."

"Besides the fact that you work together?"

"This won't work if you play coy?"

"This will not work if you are not straight forward." He says challenging me.

"We have been seeing each other, Henry." I try to read his eyes but they remain stoic. "Do you know? Did Walt tell you?"

"I knew but not in the way you think I know."

"So, he didn't tell you."

"He did not, directly."

I look down to the floor trying to keep my shit together.

"Vic, he did not tell me specific details of your intimate relationship because he is the kind of man that would not speak of anything as meaningful as that to someone else and secondly he did not need to tell me as his feelings for you are evident from my perspective but he did indicate that there had been a in shift in your relationship."

"He doesn't kiss and tell. Is that what you are saying?"

"Yes, Walt is very old-fashioned that way but I suspect that you are aware of that already."

He moves past me and places the ledger on his desk and I ask, "Who decides this stuff?"

"Why are you really here, Vic? What is going on?"

I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, "Henry, I don't know what makes sense anymore."

He sits on his desk and waits.

"I think Walt has gone off the reservation." I say and then I realize what I said, "Fuck, Henry, I'm sorry I didn't mean it that way." I say such stupid shit sometimes.

"Just tell me what has happened." Not appearing offended and not offering a clue so I fill him in on the entire story of the investigation along with my suspicions with the understanding that I will kill him if he reveals any of it. He sits on the edge of his desk absorbing it all, following along, and putting the pieces together.

"So you believe Walt left to go through the recordings of Martha with Cassandra and those recordings will reveal the missing pieces that may explain the motives behind the conspiracy and Branch's murder?

"That's exactly what I think."

"But Walt has had the recordings in his possession for some time you say. Why would he have waited to listen to them? What makes you think he has not listened to them before now?"

"He would have known what was on them. He wouldn't have left." I say and I sit on the couch because I can feel my knees go weak.

I look up to the Cheyenne Nation, "I also think the recordings will link Martha to all of this and that has me scared to death."

"When is the last time you spoke to him?"

"When he left the office nearly two days ago."

"He has not called you I presume?"

"You presume correctly."

"He does that."

"I know and I hate it but I figure that's part of the deal."

"It is if you allow it to be."

"I can't force the man not to retreat, Henry."

"That may be true but it is selfish behavior. He has been this way his entire life and it alienates those that care about him."

I look at him and suddenly I feel almost ashamed for being here like I can't handle my shit and that I came running to Henry although I promised myself that I wouldn't and I justify it in my mind that I don't have any close friends here in Durant that aren't really Walt's friends. I haven't done a good job at developing any relationships at all and that makes me worse than Walt in some ways because I don't even have anyone I could alienate. I'm here all alone. Suddenly, without warning, I feel completely and utterly lost. Abandoned .

I look at Henry who is taking off his apron and putting on his jacket.

"I will go to his cabin and see if he is there."

I step toward him, "Henry, listen I am sorry I came here."

"Do not be sorry."

I look down and decide it's now or never because I know I won't allow myself to ever come back in this place with this man and ask him to betray his best friend's confidence.

"Henry." I place my hand on his arm, "I need to ask you some things that I don't want to ask but I really need some answers and I don't have anyone else."

"What is it you would like to know?"

"What was she like? What was Martha like with him?"

He sits down next to me, his elbows in his knees, looking toward me.

"Martha and Walter were inseparable and very much in love with each other but like every relationship they had their problems."

"Henry, I don't want you to betray his confidence. Maybe I should go. I should be talking to him about this stuff but you know even when he opens up he still shuts it down."

"Walter harbors tremendous guilt for not being in Denver with Martha when she was killed. You already know the ramifications of those actions."

"You know more than all of us." We never talk about Henry's jail time although he wears the faded scars on his face.

He doesn't acknowledge me but instead says, "Walter is complicated and he is valuable to this community but his commitment to them cost him dearly in his heart and that will always be a complication as long as he is Sheriff."

"He told me he feels guilty about being with me because we work together and he could never share that part of himself with Martha."

He looks at me as if he has heard this before but he remains silent and waits. It is obvious why they are best friends.

"I do not know where your investigation will lead you but I worry about my friend. I worry about his heart. I worry about his spirit and if he will ever know peace."

"I don't know what to do." I fake a laugh but instead it sounds pathetic.

Henry stands and takes off his jacket, hanging it back up, and walks to the door, opening it and turns around to face me and says very matter of fact, "If you want what is yours I suggest you go and take it."

"What happened to the theory that if it is yours it will come back to you?"

He smiles, his broad beautiful full smile, "Vic, it is true that patience is a virtue but thinking that is the easy part it is acting that is difficult and you will not have the chance for a successful conclusion without it."

The cabin doesn't show any signs of life when I pull up. The Bronco is parked in its usual space and I think of turning around and leaving except that he has probably already heard the sound of my truck approaching.

I knock on the door but he doesn't answer.

"Walt!" I yell and knock like I'm serving a search warrant but he still doesn't open the door.

There's this thing I can't really explain, call it a hunch, call it experience, it's something we all have, and I listen to it as I try the door knob out of habit and it turns.

The prickly hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my hand finds its way to my holster. I finger my gun, leaving it in my holster, but alert to my surroundings.

The door squeaks as I open it. I never noticed the squeak before but it is there and it sounds super loud in the stillness of the country day.

"Walt." I say almost hushed.

It's dark in the cabin and it's cold. The cabin is a mess, there are beer cans crushed in a pile in the middle of the coffee table and a couple of empty bottles of bourbon and tools everywhere along with the white evidence box marked _Longmire_.

"Walt." I walk toward the bedroom looking for a light switch and my mind thinks the most random thought that in the movies they always get it wrong. Cops don't go walking through dark ass rooms they turn on the lights and that's just what I do, and almost immediately, I see them.

His socked feet are parallel to each other, on the floor, on the other side of the coffee table. He's in the exact spot we made love almost 48 hours ago when none of this seemed imaginable.

Kneeling down beside him I check to see if he is breathing and he is then I step out onto the porch and dial the office.

I let Ruby know where I am and to have Ferg and Super Sexy handle any calls that come up.

"Just tell them I may have a crack in the case and will check back in tomorrow, ok."

"Ok, Vic." I wait for her to hang up as I say goodbye but she calls my name and says, "Thank you."

We hang up; for real this time, I turn around and walk back into the cabin, and sit looking at his lanky body half-curled on the floor, deciding not only to let him sleep it off but if this, if he, is what I really want.


	31. Chapter 31

I peel off my jacket and uniform shirt and get to work in my tank and jeans. After finding the garbage bags I clean up every beer can, beer bottle, and open bottle I can find, start the fireplace, and put on the kettle.

After a bit, I realize the cabin isn't dirty it was just a mess just like its owner who's slept through it all.

The whistle of the kettle gets my attention and I scoop the coffee grounds, pour the hot water, and check my watch setting the timer for 4 minutes.

A cold press to his forehead should help do the trick and it does as his blue eyes slowly blink open, his hand comes up to his eyes and he presses the towel to his cheek.

"Hey" he says gliding his fingers across mine and holding them to his face.

"Looks like you got really fucked up," observing his present condition.

"What time is it?"

"1836 exactly."

"Ah man."

"And it's tomorrow. You missed a couple of days."

He sits up and leans against his couch. Handing him a couple of aspirin and a glass of water he doesn't protest.

"Listen Vic…" He starts but I cut him off taking my hand back in the process.

"I'm more than a little too pissed off at you right now and I can't really talk to you about the bullshit bitch ass move you made just so you know."

I pour him a cup of hot black coffee.

He takes it and my hand and asks, "Will you come sit next to me." His voice is scratchy and barely audible.

I know I won't abandon him no matter how things turn out and I sit next to him because at this very moment there's nothing about him that I find attractive so I should be able to keep my shit together. Yeah, I know I sound like a bitch but that's ok this is about me right now and I am starting to understand that I can put myself first.

I sit next to him and he has one hand holding the coffee and the other hand is on my thigh.

"Vic" I hear his voice catch and it takes me by surprise as I look over at him and I see his face twist in anguish.

"Walt."

He puts the coffee down and then his hand to his forehead as he collapses forward.

"Martha, she knew."

"Knew what?"

"I listened to the tapes. Cassandra told her the cancer wouldn't kill her but that she would die a violent death."

"Oh, Walt. Oh I'm so sorry." As mad as I am I don't think I can comprehend the pain he is in.

He turns his head toward me, "On the last tape she asked Cassandra about Nighthorse. She saw him leaving her place. I think she was figuring out that there was a connection between Nighthorse and Cassandra." He pauses and his eyes roll back like he is recalling the tapes, "I know now more than ever that Nighthorse was involved and behind Martha's murder."

"Why didn't you call me, Walt? How can you go through this alone, again?"

"It brought up everything I've been feeling about…" his hand rolls in front of him helping him get the words out, "us about all the failures of my marriage."

He leans his head back and takes a deep breath, "I just started drinking. I didn't want to remember, Vic. I didn't want to remember that I was a failure as a husband. I didn't protect her when she needed me. She didn't tell me about what was going on or that she suspected anything."

"Did you know she was seeing Cassandra?"

"No, I had no idea until you brought me the box and you know it makes me think what else I didn't know about my wife. I know she loved me. I know she wouldn't hurt me on purpose."

"She was like you. She kept things from you to try to protect you."

He looks at me and his eyes are red, "That's what I think. That's what I know."

"Then you know you didn't fail her."

"I did."

"No, Walt you didn't have a chance to succeed because she kept things from you just as you kept things from her, how you keep things from the rest of us, from Henry, Cady and me."

I look at him dead on, "I know you are hurting right now but I'm not letting you off the hook because you have to stop. You have to stop pushing the rest of us away and stuffing it down."

Walt swallows hard and he is looking at me intently.

"We are here for the rest of it, Walt. We aren't excluded from the pain just because you don't talk about it. You can't be a dick about it."

"And an asshole and any other body part you want to add." He says and he's serious and he's making light all at the same time.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He holds his head down looking into his lap, "I don't want to fail again."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to fail you, Vic." He points; one of those bottles you cleaned up was dedicated to that thought and knowing as I was drinking it that I was ruining it."

"A self-fulfilling prophecy you mean."

"Yes."

"We are so fucked up."

He closes his eyes in recognition of the truth.

"Don't give up on me." He asks and his blue eyes snap up at me.

"You can't do this shit anymore. You can't shut down and expect me to be here to pick up the pieces because if you do you will be a Humpty Dumpty motherfucker."

His face lightens into a slight grin.

"You're picturing your shit all egg shaped and broken aren't you."

"Yeah, with those pants and suspenders."

"That will be your sorry ass."

"I would deserve it."

"You deserve it now."

"I know"

He looks down and takes my hand then looks back up at me, "Will you forgive me."

"Just this once."

"That's all I need."

He leans forward and I don't stop him and he gently kisses my lips as his big hand holds my face.

"You're breath stinks."

"I stink"

"Go clean up. I will be here when you're done."

"Promise?"

"Yup"

He smiles at that and takes my hand again, "There's something else you should know."

"What's that."

"Cassandra told Martha about you."

"What?"

"Not you specifically but that I would meet someone after her death that would be a storm in my life but would bring me back to life and for Martha not to worry about me and that she would see me again on the other side."

This is the part where I suspend belief but accept the spiritual world, "Do you think Martha is at peace?"

"I do, now. Yes, because you are that storm."

"Storms cause damage, Walt."

"Storms rid the sky of blackness, make it clean and fresh, and renew the earth."

"I'm not your savior."

"No, but you are my life."

"If there's anything else on that tape I don't want to know about it."

He looks at me a little concerned.

"I want to live it, Walt. Live it with you."

"Make our own story."

"Exactly"

"I better take that shower."

"Get a fuckin move on." He lets go of my hand and eases up, pours another glass of water, and heads to the bathroom.

I look around, still sitting on the floor, when I hear the shower turn on and I think to myself what a woman Martha was and how I could never ever expect to be like her and for the very first time ever I am relieved to know that to be true.

Silently, I acknowledge her and whisper in the warmth of the cabin, "I promise I will take care of him. I promise I will love him."


	32. Chapter 32

I wait to hear the water stop and I start a quick breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs along with a fresh pour of hot coffee.

As Walt emerges into the kitchen, his fresh clean scent precedes him, and as much as I hate to admit to myself I find him amazingly physically attractive. It's almost an animal attraction but I temper it because I am truly trying not to repeat my past relationship behavior, you know where I use sex to make everything alright or as a temporary salve over an unhealed emotional wound.

His hair is combed back, it's wet and dark, and it makes him look even hotter with his blue eyes radiantly looking at me.

Scooping up the eggs and dropping the dry toast onto respective plates he turns my shoulder and takes me in his arms, his wet hair pressing against my cheek as he bends his head. He smells good.

"Thank you." He says into my ear. "Thank you for being here."

"Did you think I was going to leave while you were in the shower?" I say into his chest.

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."

"I made a promise to take care of you and I plan on keeping it."

I can feel him smile against my cheek, "But that doesn't give you a pass to be a shithead."

"I won't be." He says just before moving his head and kissing my lips all soft and sweet like he is still asking for forgiveness.

"Your eggs are getting cold."

"It's ok" he says against my lips and I really don't want him to stop but I really need him to stop.

I pat his butt, "Come on, let's eat."

He smiles at me and it's genuine and beautiful. "I am pretty hungry."

He pours our coffee and we sit to eat, "Dry toast?" His eyebrow crinkles.

"Yeah, every calorie counts. We don't need the butter at every meal. Your eggs were cooked with butter."

Chewing his food, "It's good." Like he's surprised and I smile because he's pretty easy to please when it comes to food and that may sound trivial but it's really not, not for the long haul.

"Am I being a nag?" I ask because that's not what I want under any circumstances.

He looks up from his plate, sliding the last bit of toast into his mouth, "Nope." He licks his finger, wipes it on his napkin, "I figure you just want me around a little longer."

Standing with his empty plate and cup he leans over and kisses my lips, "I like it." Moving his head back he looks at me, still bending over, "I like it a lot."

Walt refills my coffee cup and it feels like a Norman Rockwell slice of Americana except for the nearly unspeakable history looming over our head; the common tie of death that binds us.

"You ready to talk about it. All of it?" I say and it sounds demanding and I guess it is in a way.

He runs his fingers through his half-dried hair, "Yup."

Those same fingers come down and reach for my hand and intertwines them, "Let's go for a ride." He says and pulls me up into his arms.

"You have a heavier jacket in your car?" He asks

"Of course, it's fucking Wyoming. The weather changes more than a menopausal woman." I snicker and he laughs.

"What kind of ride are we going on?" I look up into his eyes half flirting but half serious.

"Horseback."

"Ah" I say "You better be good at it, Walt. I only rode those midget fucking horses as a kid in Philly."

He laughs in earnest; I'm sure picturing me on one of those horses.

We head out, my wooly collar pulled up to my ears and my ballcap pulled down my forehead. I wrap my arms around his waist but he stops, turns his head and says over his shoulder, "Feel for the slits just behind my pockets in my coat."

I look down and find them.

"Slide your hands through there and hold on." I smile into his back as I my cheek finds its way there because suddenly holding onto him is so much more intimate, so much more, pleasurable.

"Your hands will stay warm now."

I'm pressed against his shirt and his coat and he feels good as we take off again at a slow leisurely walk.

"We have to follow the money, Vic. That's how we will string it together."

"Tell me all you're thinking?"

"I think Nighthorse and Barlow are connected by the casino and that Nighthorse got spooked when Martha saw him leaving Cassandra's place. What I don't know is if Martha spooked him or if Cassandra did by telling him she was asking questions."

"Is that enough for Nighthorse to be behind killing her?"

"I don't think he would have come up with that on his own. He would need help or motivation to kill her but Nighthorse doesn't get his hands dirty. We've seen that through everything. He hires others to get dirty."

"Walt, maybe it's my Catholic schoolgirl upbringing, but do you think it's more than a coincidence that they all have biblical names; Jacob, David and Malachi. They are like the biblical triad here in Absaroka County.

"Jacob cheated his brother out of his birthright. David was a warrior and Malachi was a prophet that told of Jesus's coming because man was in need of a savior."

"There's no such thing as coincidence, Walt. That's what you're saying?"

"Yup."

He quiet and I'm quiet as we ride along further and it's serene; the calm before a very big storm.

"What do you want?" He says after a while.

"What?"

"What do you want? With us, I mean, with what we doing. What do you want?" His voice cuts through the cold air.

"I don't know if I've had time to really think it through. There's so much wrong with us, Walt."

"You mean because of Martha?"

"That's part of it."

"What's the other part?"

"You shutting it down, being selfish, and keeping me out but after this morning I think we are making strides there."

He's quiet and I ask, "What do you want, Walt?"

"I want us to be happy. I want something to look forward to with you."

I don't respond recalling our last conversation that skirted around this.

"I told you I could do one day at a time as long as there is a tomorrow and I can but I really want a tomorrow; a lot of tomorrows."

"What does that really mean, Walt?"

"It means that as we go through this we need to decide what our tomorrows will be."

"Why would Barlow take Branch's tomorrows, Walt?"

"He threatened him."

"Money and power. That's why we need to follow the money." I confirm.

"Whatever he found out was enough to take him out of the game completely."

"So he wouldn't have either."

"That's either jail or death."

"The only crime that's both is murder."

He stops and turns toward me, his eyes straining to meet mine and when our eyes meet we arrive there at the same time.

"We need to pull Ridges and Malachi's bank records. Maybe one of those money transfers was payment. Payment to kill Martha." I say it because it needs to be said and his eyes are steely blue and fixed on mine. His features are ridged and pale in the coldness.

We turn around and head back toward the cabin and he takes his gloved right hand from the rein and places it over his jacket and over my hand still grasping him.

I'm glad he's quiet and he doesn't need to say a thing. Just that touch over layers of clothing affirms that he's right here with me, that he's with me, and it's the closest I've ever felt with him or anyone.

As the distance closes, I look into the short distance and see the scaffolding on the back side of the house.

"What's all that, Walt?"

"Scaffolding."

"Duh, I know what it is but what's it all about?" My sincere curiosity peeking.

"When I went out the other day, to run that errand," I feel my head rub against his jacket as I nod my head, "I met with Bob about plans to renovate the cabin. He was a master carpenter before the bottle got the best of him. I thought expanding the kitchen and adding another bedroom and bathroom would be a nice addition."

Not really knowing what to say I state the obvious, "Isn't that expensive?"

"Not really, I'm helping with the labor and so is Henry. The materials are actually pretty reasonable it's the labor that drives up the price."

I not so skillfully jump off when we reach the corral and Walt dismounts, "We will have to work on your dismount."

"I know how to do it when it counts." Deflecting, flirting, and going to my old standby because I'm feeling scared, happy, insecure, and overwhelmed all at once.

Walt smiles but doesn't take the bait as I watch him, so natural and elegant, in the presence of the black beauty.

He walks toward me and his expression is blank, completely unreadable, and I start to panic like I read into everything and that I'm freaking out over freaking out for no reason. He stops just in front of me, not touching me, still expressionless.

"Can we go inside and talk?" He asks and I realize its Walt asking and you and I both know what the odds are on that.

* * *

_**The chapter was too long. I will post another chapter later this evening.**_


	33. Chapter 33

We shed out outer layers and I sit on the couch, waiting.

He sits on the coffee table in front of me bootless and reaches up to smooth his hair. Without asking, he reaches down, picks up my leg, and starts to take off my boot.

"I'm going after them." He says as a matter-of-fact, "and I'm going to get them. All of them"

He lowers my leg and takes the other one holding my socked foot in between his legs and in between his palms and almost subconsciously he begins massaging my foot. It's very intimate and it's very serious all at once.

"I expect you, too." I say still looking at him still not flinching.

"I'm going full throttle and I don't know what it will end up looking like." He pauses and continues "but this doesn't take away from us." He says while his fingers do expert work on my arch.

I stare at him trying to make peace with what he is saying and what he is doing "Is this your way of telling me to keep out of it?"

He shakes his head, "No."

His fingers are so strong but so gentle at the same time and I can feel my body relax into his rhythm; "It's my way of telling you I may not be all the things you want me to be."

"I don't expect you to be perfect, Walt."

"I know"

"Do you?"

"I do" He looks down at my foot and stops his hands like he didn't realize how he was touching me, "but," he says as his eyes come back up to me, "no matter what happens you need to know that I love you."

He stretches his long body forward, his hands resting on the couch on either side of me, I move to meet him, just our lips touch and it's soft and sweet and full of love and promise.

I wrap my arms around his waist and my fingers slip between his tucked in shirt and his jeans as I try to pull him closer my mouth finds his ear, "I love you, Walt."

His head hovers just above me, his weight held up by his massive arms, "Will you trust me?" He whispers and my eyes are transfixed in his which are hypersensitive and the most intense blue, "Will you trust that I won't sacrifice our tomorrow for the wrongs of the past?"

My hand frames his face, "I can't trust you that way if there are secrets between us, if there are things you haven't told me."

He kisses my neck and my cheek and then my lips before sitting back down on the coffee table moving both of my feet into his lap and grasps each with his powerful hands.

"I was on my way to kill Nighthorse when I heard the gunshot in the distance."

My face goes blank. I can feel it. I can feel the air being sucked out of my lungs. Shock, that's what I feel.

"I….ummm" Nothing comes out of my mouth but gibberish.

He nods his head as if he heard the questions screaming in my head, "I had said my final goodbye to Martha. I let her go and I was in the darkest place I've ever been."

He waits a beat, "But that shot pulled me back, Vic and I've been in a daze refusing to admit what I've felt this entire time that Branch's death wasn't an accident."

I take possession of my legs as my feet touch the floor, leaning forward; my hands fall to his knees.

"Walt, I don't know what….."

He covers my hands with his, "Branch's death, Vic, it gave me my life back and I realized how much I have to live for. I can't just let this go."

He looks down at our hands, "I can't let any of it go. They have killed or hurt everyone I care about; everyone I love and you have to know that there will always be a part of me, a big part actually, that will be overzealous in protecting you."

"Walt…." I say but can't finish his hand comes up silently asking me to wait.

"It's why I asked you to stay at the station that night and now that so much has passed between us I…" His voice trails off.

"I know you will always protect me, Walt. It's one of the reasons I love you it's when you exclude me that's the problem."

His head nods up and down acknowledging me.

"I thought if I played nice with Ed he would leave us alone." I say it because he needs to hear it and know it.

His head cants to the side seeking understanding.

"No secrets, right." My hand wipes my face, over my forehead, and comes back down on his.

"I didn't lead him on but I wasn't exactly firm in turning him away. I wanted to protect you after you told me what you did in the motel room ah for me."

"You still haven't answered my question, Vic." His voice is firm almost demanding an answer.

"Yes, I will trust you. I do trust you."

His face breaks into a quick smile and then back to its natural seriousness.

"Will you trust me?" I ask

"I always have." His eyes radiate warmth and I move closer and he meets me in that half-way suspended space and I kiss him, it's full, and it's velvety, and it's all the things I want to say to him. He pulls my legs around him and we hold each other, my head folds into his neck, taking in the scent of him.

There's not another word exchanged between us as we begin to make love to each other but it is the closest we have ever been as our hands explore each other, our tongues trace the contours of our flesh, and our bodies join as one. As we make love, I feel at home here, at complete peace with him because he's shown me the truth behind the façade and once he pulled the curtain back I fell in love again. In love, with the truth of, Walt Longmire.

The next morning he says, "I'm meeting Bob for lunch today at the Pony. Will you come with me? I would like for you to be happy with the plans."

"It's your cabin, Walt. You have the say so."

"It's yours, too." He takes my hand and presses a door key into my palm and folds my fingers over.

I look at his hand wrapped around mine.

"I don't have a key for you." I say

"It's ok." He says

My heart is beating so hard I can hear it in my ears but it is also filled with the solidity I feel for him, for us.

"You know I read Byron and Shelley but I'm not one of those poets myself. I figure since you hold the key to my heart you might as well have the one to my home." He smiles like a schoolboy because he's worked on that and I smile back and I kiss him.

"I won't take advantage of this." I say

"I'm not worried about that. We don't have any secrets, remember." He kisses my lips and smiles.

"I'll meet you at the station. I have to go home and change into fresh clothes." I remind him.

"Why don't you just bring some clothes here and leave them here. There's plenty of room. I'll make room."

"That's a two-way street."

"I can make that happen." He smiles widens and it's broad and it's the beautiful happy smile I so rarely see.

"Alright then."

"Alright."

Walt holds the front door open and I step out under his arm, which has become our way, and my cell phone rings.

The photo pops up of Ferg posing on his Trans-Am, a moment of complete hilarity, and so very Ferg.

"Hey." I say and I hear the happiness.

There's a sense of urgency in his voice and he does that quick whisper thing, "Vic, you need to get to the station. The FBI agents made the connections from the financial records this morning and they are writing the arrest warrants now for Barlow and Nighthorse."

"Ok."

"Is Walt with you?"

"We're both on the way." I say and look up at Walt who is hanging on my every word.

"The bureau boys and Hayden are writing arrest warrants for Barlow and Nighthorse."

He squares his hat and simply nods.


	34. Chapter 34

I follow Walt into town and park next to the Bronco. He's out and on the sidewalk in one fluid motion but he stops and waits for me, his body bladed to the truck, his hat down low.

He only misses a beat. I'm right by his side. He opens the door and I pass through stepping aside for him to lead the way. His long legs stretch his jeans tight as he takes the steps two at a time. He struts into the office, game face, and ready to hear the game plan.

Super Sexy is there with Ferg. She stands to meet him.

"Sheriff, may I speak with you in your office, please?" She says politely.

"We can speak here." His head swivels around the room taking note of us and confirming we are his soldiers.

Super Sexy takes stock, puts her hands on her hips, and says, "Sheriff, we are ready to go with the warrants but I know this is more than just another case for you." She pulls her hair back with a quick little brush of her finger and with it exposes a glimpse of her humanity.

Walt's leg bounces, his intensity ratchets up, "I appreciate that Pat." It is genuine.

As he glances at Ruby I can see the light snap back into the inferno raging inside, then he looks at me, and his face softens just enough for me to recognize that he isn't completely isolated in his mind.

"I don't want a big production." His hand comes up and his finger points, "Just my deputies will be fine assuming you want to help even us out and come along."

His shoulders relax. He shows the confidence of a man who knows his prey. His forearm rises in front of his chest, his long index finger separates from the rest and he points straight in the air, "Just give me a minute."

He turns and walks his long thin frame into his office and gently shuts the door behind him.

"Ferg get your shit." I tell him

"Can I ride with you?" He asks, his feet in the ready position, as he puts on his raid jacket with the yellow "Sheriff" emblazed on the back.

"Yeah, sure. Get your vest."

"Where's yours?" He asks

"In the truck." I look down snapping my magazine holder. "I've had it there since…since…..that crazy fucked up shit at hillbilly hell town."

Ferg's lips purse in acknowledgement marking another time we don't talk about it.

The office door opens and Walt holds the knob and the doorframe, his torso in between, "Pat, can you get a couple of agents here by 1700 or so. I want to take Nighthorse in custody at his house that way there's less chance he will have Malachi or his goons around and no way to warn Barlow we are coming." He says half-order, half-question.

"Yeah, sure. I have the SRT team on stand-by. How many agents do you want, Walt?"

"Just two will be fine."

"You go it."

Super sexy gets on her cell and hits a speed-dial, "Hey this is Hayden. Can I get one two-man team up here to Durant?"

She palms her iPhone, "Helicopter will be taking off in 10, the eta is 90 minutes. Where can they land?"

"County courthouse." I say, "There's a helipad there."

She press the phone against her jeweled ear and barks the orders.

Walt nods and walks back towards his office and he stops, half in and half out, "Vic." He looks long and lean turned sideways like that as I walk toward him he steps aside and closes the door behind me.

I don't know what to expect and he doesn't take a step back and for a moment I have the strangest desire, to hold him, to let him know it will be ok but I don't instead I wait.

"Ah Vic. I ah called Lucian. I want you to come with me to pick him up from the home."

"Lucian? What the fuck?"

He takes a step forward like he's going to say something but he doesn't, he doesn't need to, everything is there on the surface for me to see and to understand.

"Let's go." I say and step toward his private door. "I'll call Ruby on the way out there and let he know what's up. We can meet up with Ferg and Super Sexy later."

He grabs his hat and coat and I wait for him by the side door.

He stops and looks at me those blue eyes penetrating into my flesh, "Thanks, Vic."

"You're welcome but you need to explain what the fuck is going on."

"I will"

As soon as my butt hits the seat of the Bronco I call Ruby and explain where we are going and that we will be back before the FBI team shows up.

"Lucian's a lawman. He molded me into the lawman that I am today. Barlow may be his blood but I owe it to Lucian to tell him man to man."

"Respect"

"Yup. Respect"

"I get it but you know that whole concept of blood…are you bringing him back with us so he doesn't tip off Barlow."

"I'm bringing him back."

"But not for that reason?"

"I figure he will want to go with us."

"Really, Walt? I mean is that such a wise thing to do?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"He better not check out my tits this time." I say trying to lighten the heavy load that Walt just filled the air with.

"I can't blame him for that, Vic." He says with a straight face and he peeks over with a dead pan expression that is perversely appealing.

I wait outside in the Bronco. This is a conversation between gunfighters. The automatic doors of the rest home slide open and the two men fill the twin frame of the open space.

The serenity of their movements is hypnotic as they close the distance to the Bronco.

"Victoria" Lucian says as he climbs in behind me.

"Lucian."

There's not a word exchanged for the ride back to the station and I wonder why Walt wanted me here, what purpose do I serve?

Just as he rolls into the open space in front of the station, "I briefed him on everything."

"Ok." I look back at Lucian. His eyes are full of discontent.

"It's a damned tragedy that's what it is." He says matter of fact and it is. "I'm embarrassed to carry the same name. Our dear old departed Daddy wouldn't have stood for Barlow's bullshit. He never did like the sonofabitch he sired but this….this is a low I never seen coming….and for that I am truly sorry."

Walt's eyes drift up to the rearview mirror then just as quickly he is out of the Bronco and back on the sidewalk and there's something different, something new in his eyes that wasn't there before, it's more than sadness, more than rage, it's the cold hard reality of the truth and suddenly my heart just aches. It aches for the pain that is behind him and the pain that is ahead of us.


	35. Chapter 35

You would think I would notice the high arching brass patina gates or the custom mason stone cuttings leading to the massive mahogany front doors but I don't notice any of those things the first time around. I notice the frigid cold air making the scene as Lucian rings the doorbell.

His head is angled down, like a cat before he pounces, and as he looks up his jaw is clenched, the veins surrounding his neck on alert.

The thick nearly black doors open and Barlow's pretentious bark is not mitigated by the presence of his estranged brother. Both men exchange glances before the pawn is set in motion.

"Step aside little brother." The old lawman exclaims as he pushes his way inside not allowing for a hint of refusal.

Walt follows and I'm on his heel as we make our way into the lavish home.

"What, the hell, Lucian." Barlow barks as only Barlow can.

Lucian steps forward into Barlow's space, his hat nearly touching his forehead, "Speaking of hell, what happened with you and Branch?"

Barlow's eyebrow furrows, his arm flares out, erect, and his finger points to the door, "Get out of my house."

Lucian's finger waves, "You better check your deed you pretentious sonofabitch my name is there next to yours. It's the one smart thing Daddy did in regards to you."

Barlow scowls at Lucian, "I told you what happened." He looks over to Walt and dismisses me with an absent glare.

"You told me your version of the truth. I want the exact truth."

Barlow's lips are tight, "I'm not going over it again."

Walt stands with his back to both men, his hands on his hips, his head down like he's contemplating the universe and slowly he turns, not quite facing either man, and asks, "Barlow, why did you kill my wife?"

He's looking at him now, he's waiting, and he's contemplating as if he has played out every move in his mind's eye.

Barlow's expression changes but there's no anguish instead he smiles, "Now why in the world would I do that, Longmire?" He's almost laughing at Walt and something strange happens to me, for the first time, I feel angry about this whole thing and I want to kick his ass but I stand to the side and I wait.

"That's what I want to know." Walt's features are hard. His face half in the shadow.

"You've lost your mind, man." Barlow throws his once erect arm into the air as an exclamation mark to his protest of innocence dismissive of Walt and then his hand goes down to his hip matching Walt's power pose.

Walt looks to the side, then back at Barlow, "The thing is Barlow, we have the bank transactions, the money transfers, the land purchases, we have everything. I know that you and Jacob Nighthorse are business partners and proving that you both were behind…." His voice just stops, his lips purse shut, and the rage that is always just below the surface is starting to seep out and drip out of his pores.

Walt's eyes narrow, he steps forward, and like poetry Lucian steps aside, "Why Martha?"

Barlow doesn't flinch; his fists are still tight, his jaw set.

"Jacob won't take the hit for you Barlow. I'll find out why one way or another."

"You don't have anything." Barlow pauses as Walt stares.

"You've always thought you were smarter, Barlow. You're not. You're just louder." Walt says just above a whisper as if to make his point.

I step in waiting for the moment, waiting to see Walt's next move, ready to move in with handcuffs.

"Barlow Connally, you are under arrest for the murder of Martha Longmire and Branch Connally, turn around, and put your hands behind your back."

His finger goes straight up and into Walt's chest, "Go straight to hell."

"You can add assault on an officer to the charges." I say.

Barlow stands firm, "You can't touch me."

"I'd just as soon take you to the graveyard instead of the jail house. The only reason you aren't dead is because I don't want you to be." Walt says and his voice is cold, so cold, it sends shivers down my spine.

That's when I hear it; the distinctive sound of a cocking revolver. Lucian's pistol is pressed against Barlow's temple and it's like the three men are frozen statues in a horror show.

"You would kill your own brother over this white trash?" Barlow's venom fills the air.

"I only tolerated you because you were blood Barlow. You shamed Momma and Daddy and now you have shamed our family name, forever."

"We built this county." He turns and faces Lucian the barrel of the gun pressing in the center of his forehead. "They are nothing, they will always be nothing."

"You killed my nephew, your only boy, for what? For your ego?" Lucian's voice is suspended in disbelief. "Even you aren't that vain. What did he find out?"

There is a moment of quiet, the distinctive quiet before the storm, when Barlow does the unthinkable. He lunges, a shot goes off, and big hands; hands I know so well are on his back. It's eerily quiet with just the slight sounds of grunts and pulls. It's over.

"Ruby, get an ambulance to Barlow's house. Gunshot wound." I bark into my handpack.

The radio crackles with her response and the tone of her voice, the hesitancy brings me back to reality, "It's Barlow. He's been shot."

Walt rolls him to his back, "Get me a towel, Vic."

I run to the kitchen and pull open drawers until I find the linen and bring what I can carry.

Walt's hands are filled with blood, the cuffs of his sleeves are beginning to darken with the hot red fluid. He takes the towels and applies pressure, looking over at Lucian, "You alright?"

"Is he gonna live?" He asks with sincerity.

"Dunno." Walt says and he looks up at me his eyes are so full.

"This thing." Barlow whispers, "It's bigger than you can ever imagine."

"Why did you kill him? Why your own son?"

"He got in the way. Just like Martha. Just like you." A smile forms on his face, the same smug smile of evil. His eyes close just as I hear the sirens wail.

Lucian's back is pressed against the overstuffed couch. His gun is half on his lap and half in his hand.

"Lucian." I say my voice is soft and there's more caring there than I suspected as I take the gun from him his eyes meet mine and they are so full and the air escapes his lungs his cry charging the air.

The medics do their thing, I load up in the wagon with Barlow in case he makes a dying declaration, and just before the back doors are slammed shut Walt appears from the shadows.

"We'll follow and meet you at the hospital."

"Ok, I got this. It will be alright."

He doesn't say anything else just nods and slams the doors shut. The sirens start and the rig hauls ass on the desolate baron Wyoming highway.

I lean down in Barlow's ear, his semi-conscious state doesn't deter me, "Just so you know, that white trash back there is a better man than you could ever hope to be. You're not gonna die you bastard not until they put the needle in your vein."


	36. Chapter 36

"It's my story so I'm gonna tell it."

Walt nods his head.

"Doc says it will be a few hours for surgery and even longer before he's awake enough to make a statement." Is say interrupting the two cowboy sheriff's.

Walt checks his watch, "That gives us plenty of time. I already called Hayden and filled her in. We are meeting her and Ferg and mile marker 15 then heading to Nighthorse's place."

He turns to look at Lucian, "I need you to stay at the station, not here, and you can give a statement later."

"Ok, Walt, no problem there."

I head to the Bronco and turn to find Walt is not behind me. He's still inside of the lobby talking with Lucian; his hand goes up to his shoulder, as the older man's head hangs down. Then just as quickly, Walt turns toward me, and I look back outside because I feel like I have been spying on something important, something intimate between the two men.

Silence takes the space between us as we head to 15 and I look over as we speed down the road.

"I told him not to worry."

I keep looking, not judging.

"He's worried about me and what the Feds will say."

"You told him it's a joint investigation, right?"

"Yup"

I nod and look out the passenger side window.

"I deputized him before we went out there. When I was in his room. He has this old family bible. We used that. Seemed appropriate."

"Apropos." I smile remembering. "Like the flock of ravens."

"Something like that."

"One of the benefits of being Sheriff. Posse Comitatus and all that jazz."

He doesn't smile just nods. He's smart. Smart as a fox.

Hayden, the Ferg and the two FBI guys are waiting at the mile marker in Hayden's suburban.

Everyone is vested up, armed up, and ready. In a different time and a different place I would say the two FBI guys were hot.

Walt walks up to Hayden, "Cumberland has a reserve deputy on the way to the hospital to sit and wait for Barlow to gain consciousness. He'll be in surgery and recovery for several hours. Ruby's niece is gonna run Lucian up to the station."

She blades her forehead with the blade of her hand, "Ok, that gives us plenty of time." She looks at Walt squarely, "We can talk about the particulars later, Sheriff."

"The hospital staff won't say anything about Barlow being there I talked to Doc Bloomfield so Nighthorse shouldn't be alerted."

He nods and she does a slight bob of her head.

"Ok listen up." She barks and points, "This is Jack Pederson and Mark Weinberg. They are members of our response team and they are going to help serve the warrant on Nighthorse. We are going to his home instead of the casino because there are too many potential targets or enforcement encounter opportunities. We will limit our exposure and heighten our safety by doing it this way."

Everyone nods like they understand the reasoning.

"Jack and Mark you have A side, Vic you have B side, Walt you have C, and I'll take D side. Ferg, can you man radio operations and keep an ops on the perimeter so we don't get flanked?"

Ferg's lips are pressed tight as he nods in the affirmative then he adds, "I did a complete work up on him. Nighthorse doesn't have any weapons registered to him and no prior convictions."

We all look at Ferg and I am filled with the old familiar wave of confidence that I used to have in Philly. The one where I know my team has it's shit together.

Piling into our respective 4x4's, I ask Walt, "You ready for this?"

"Yup."

As we cross onto Nighthorse's property, I do a press check of my Glock, out of years of habit to make sure I have a round in the chamber - condition 2 by design.

"You ever worry about carrying hot?" I ask

"Nope. Marines taught me. Wouldn't know any other way."

Both vehicles stop about 50 yards from our target and we take our positions this time Walt mans the front door and as Jacob opens the door I fall on Walt's flank and step inside with him.

"I'm here with a warrant, Nighthorse."

"I want my lawyer present." Is all he says in absolute disgust.

"You're going to need one shithead." I say because I really can't help myself.

I make my way past clearing the rooms I traverse and open the back door for Jack and Mark. They break off and begin their search.

"What are they doing in my house, Sheriff."

"Oh, that's the FBI." Walt points lazily, "We have both a search warrant and an arrest warrant." He gives that half grunt half chuckle thing.

He looks up and over at me then smacks his lips, "I don't know if you will get a deal this time, Jacob, we already have Barlow in custody."

Walt motions for him to turn around, "Jacob Nighthorse, you are under the arrest for the murder of Martha Longmire and conspiracy to commit the murder of Miller Beck."

His face drains of color. It's one of those things you can't control when confronted with the truth. It's the poker face you can't develop. His body betrays him.

Nighthorse turns around and puts his hands behind his back and Walt cuffs him up. There's a moment with Walt pressed against his back that I thought he was going to hurt him, to really hurt him, but he didn't instead he locks the cuffs and turns him around.

"You can call your lawyer from the station."

To my surprise, Walt reads Nighthorse his Miranda rights. He recites the paragraph by heart and not from a little card which I really expected since it's the first time I can remember in nearly four years I've actually seen him read someone their rights. Funny how that works I think.

Hayden and Ferg meet us in the house and Ferg helps Jack and Mark sort through files.

"Sheriff, we can finish up here if you want to transport back to the station for booking?" Hayden asks

Walt nods and then says my name, "Vic."

"Yeah." I say and turn to meet him and knowing without asking he's my partner and I'm going with him without being asked.

This time, silence takes over the Bronco, and the long ride seems even longer. I feel selfish for thinking of how this will affect me? How many steps backwards will we have to take?

Just as we round the corner to the station I think how much I love this man and part of that love is the confidence of knowing he will always care for me and protect me. He will never let either of those go and there is honor in that there is honor in him.

Ruby stands and waits and looks as Walt puts Nighthorse in the cell. He brings the black rotary phone over to the cell the cord stretched out in mythic proportions from years of distant use.

He points his finger down, "You can make your phone call."

"I can tell you what you want to know but I want a deal."

Walt doesn't hesitate, doesn't falter, "It's seems we've been here before Jacob but this time you can call your lawyer first and have her present with the Assistant US Attorney."

At that Nighthorse's eyebrows rise.

"You're being Federally prosecuted Jacob."

Nighthorse's face loses more parlor and this time Walt smiles at him, "We have everything, all the records, all the interstate connections and we have the other big thing, the Federal death penalty."

"I thought you said Barlow was in custody. Where is he?"

"Oh that." Walt still smiles, "He in the operating room having emergency surgery. He was shot while being taken into custody."

Walt turns and steps away and then as if for dramatic effect he stops and turns back toward Nighthorse, "But not before making some incriminating statements."

This time as he passes me he winks. It's the confidence of a man that knows his prey.

He heads to the reading room and closes the door. The water starts running and I stand near Ruby.

"You ok, Rubes?"

She shakes her head. "That man has been through hell."

"So have you." I say because it's true.

The tears don't fall from her eyes this time but they are there.

My voice is at a whisper, "It's not the end of it, Ruby. Barlow all but told Walt that before he blacked out."

"What do you think he meant?" She asks concern written all over her face.

"He said it was bigger than he could ever imagine. He pretty much threatened Walt." I pause and look over my shoulder at Nighthorse who's in the cell with his back to me trying to plead with the other end of his phone conversation.

"I'm glad you are here, Vic." She says it with sincerity.

"Me, too, Ruby." It's the first time I've said it and it's the first time I've agreed. I am glad I'm here.


	37. Chapter 37

The sun has set on the day but not our troubles. Super Sexy and her bureau crew are plodding away with the paperwork after finishing their takeout dinner.

"Ferg, I'm gonna head to the hospital and check on Walt."

"Ok." He says checking his watch for the millionth time.

"What's up you gotta date or something." I say as a matter of routine.

"Yeah, actually, I do." He looks worried, "I don't want to cancel, but I think I have to."

"You and Kristie?"

"Who else?" He says kinda shy.

I smile because I want to tease him and I smile because I'm happy for him.

"Go ahead and get out of here and have fun."

"You sure, Vic?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. No sense in both of us being miserable."

He leans in a little closer. "How's that going by the way?"

I look at him and scamper because I haven't prepared for this; this thing called friendship this thing called a relationship.

"One day at a time."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that there's so much going on …" I twirl my pencil in my fingers, rub my neck, and look around and I just smile at Ferg but it's a painful smile because as much as I know we have something special I know we can't predict the future.

I stand up and walk over to the Fed corner, "Hey Pat, I'm going to drop off Lucian and head over to the hospital. Ferg's leaving for the night but I will have my cell phone if something comes up. The phones are forwarded to me anyway."

"Thanks, Vic. You ok with us staying here and finishing up? The boys are going to camp out at my place anyway."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan. We'll meet you back here tomorrow morning at 0800 and finish what we don't tonight."

"Ok. The ADA will be here tomorrow so that works." She says and I turn to get Lucian who's lying down in Walt's office.

"Hey,Vic" she calls after me and closes the distance, "How's Walt doing with all this?"

"That's what I'm going to find out."

I step into the familiar office and Lucian's long legs are stretched out, one leg over the other, hat pulled down over his face and his hands folded across his chest.

Leaning over, I place my hand on his, "Lucian, wake up."

His blue eyes open and they are so innocent and sleepy, "Hey, sweet cheeks," and just as suddenly his eyes flood with the truth. The truth of our circumstances and what led him here.

I go to stand and Lucian takes my hand. "Thank you for today, Deputy Moretti."

"You're welcome, Lucian." I look down at my boots and back up at him, "I'm really sorry."

"Me, too." He says all soft and whispery.

He doesn't let go of my hand as he looks into my eyes, "You two going to make it through all of this?" He asks.

My eyebrows scrunch before I can reply.

"I've known Walt al lot of years and there's not much he can hide if you know where to look."

"I hope so, Lucian." I quickly abandon any thought of denial.

"He will never tell you but he asked me for advice awhile back. Asked me if I thought it was worth the risk seein' as how I was once Sheriff and all."

"He asked you about me?" My voice higher than I want it to be.

"Yeah, seems the old goat has been twisted up for a long time but I'm glad you two kids are figuring it out."

"I don't think I'll ever measure up to her, Lucian."

"Why are you worried about that?"

"How can I not be?" I dawns on me that I'm talking to Lucian about Walt and Martha. What the hell.

"People are placed in your life for a reason and sometimes we don't know what the reason is until they are gone. Don't wait to find out. Live your life, now."

He sits up and squares his hat on his head.

"If only my brother could have loved his family the right way none of this would have happened. To any of us. But what's done is done, sweetcakes. Don't let his evil stop anymore happiness."

I don't know what to say to Lucian because well it's Lucian.

"Let's go old man. I have to get you back to the old folks home."

"Mind stopping so I can get some decent grub?"

"No, not at all."

"You headed to the hospital after?"

"Yes."

He looks away and looks back but I don't make him ask instead I put my hand on his forearm, "I'll call you with an update."

Lucian nods and looks down his eyes are full but the wall is all the way up. The wall I'm familiar with, it's the same one that looks back at me in the mirror.

Dorothy is a doll and packs two specials to go. I drop Lucian off at the home and he tips his hat, the way they do in the West, and I head for the hospital.

Striding in the hospital with the Bee to go bag hanging from my left hand I check in with the reserve deputy from Cumberland County and hand him the food.

"Figured you were hungry." I say and am met with a beautiful smile and I think this guy must be a salesman when he's not playing copper.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm starving." His voice is velvety smooth. Yeah, he's a salesman alright.

"I'm gonna go inside if you want to take a break."

"Thank you, again." He says and tips his hat. These guys I say to myself.

I step inside of the hospital room and it instantly throws me back. It throws me back to Cady and Walt sitting by her side in silence, completely retreated into his head, pushing us all out, when I thought I failed him.

The room is dark except for the illumination of the medical equipment and a soft light in the corner of the room. Reminiscent of the past, I put my hand on Walt's back, but this time he reaches up takes my hand in his. I look down and smile and he greets me with a quick upturn of the corners of his mouth. Sitting on the arm of the chair, he puts his arm around my waist.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm ok" He says and looks back at Barlow.

"This is a lot to take in." I say

He moves me onto his lap and his hand comes up to the middle of my back and for the first time, this so very odd time, I feel so totally completely exposed. My head falls into the hollow of his neck and my arm comes up to meet his shoulder, his face presses against mine, and he whispers, "I was just sitting here thinking of all the treacherous things this man has done to me, to those I love; Martha, Cady, Henry, Branch and that's what I know about. "

My eyes rise to meet his, "I'm so sorry, Walt."

"He's even hurt you and he hurt Sean."

My head twists and he explains, "I never would have gone to Chance's looking for him…." I put my fingers to his lips and he takes my hand.

"I've sat here and I've wondered why I didn't kill him when I had the chance. Why I don't pull the plug out of the wall?"

"It's the reason I fell in love with you."

His eyes search mine.

"You are a good man, Walt. You do the right thing even when no one is looking, especially when no one is looking."

"Phoenix."

I look down at him and think of when I made a fool of myself in Arizona.

"What?" I ask.

"Phoenix. Greek mythologist say the ancient bird would regenerate from self-incineration and rise from the ashes." He presses my hand against his chest and his eyes are so brilliant blue. "At the time, I didn't think…." He pauses.

"Walt." I say

"Vic" He says his voice sounds like hot honey poured over gravel, "We are going to make it, sweetheart."

I believe him; I know it to be true as I kiss him and he confesses his love for me and it pours through me, our bodies on fire like the Phoenix sun.

* * *

_**A/N: This fic is much longer than I originally planned but there is much more that I want to tell. I am stopping this fic here and will continue it with a sequel when I have more time to actually write which won't be for a month or so. Thank you for all of your support and patience through this journey.**_

_**For LongmireFan - Plans is complete.**_


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